


One Victor

by JavisTG



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Light Angst, Romance, everlark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JavisTG/pseuds/JavisTG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hot summer sun kissed Katniss' cheeks, and she felt its warmth spreading throughout her body.</p><p>The tiniest of smiles danced on her lips. But this wasn't the right time for public displays of euphoria. </p><p>Not when Tessa Monroe, the 15-year old girl old whose name had been called, was making her way towards the stage in front of them; walking in a straight line towards imminent death.</p><p>Canon-divergent "what-if". Prim isn't reaped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reaping.

Katniss Everdeen closed her eyes and released the breath she’d been holding.

 

The hot summer sun kissed her cheeks, and she felt its warmth spreading through her body. The tiniest of smiles danced on her lips.

 

Gradually, her muscles relaxed. With every passing second, she felt lighter, freer, happier. She wanted to stretch her limbs as far as they could go and jump; to open her eyes and run, as fast as her legs would take her, towards her sister. She wanted to hold Prim in her arms and lift her up, spinning her around in the air. Prim had always loved that. She said it almost felt like flying.

 

The thought made Katniss want to chuckle, but she stopped herself. This wasn’t the right time for public displays of euphoria. Not when she was in the middle of the town square, surrounded by people. Not when Tessa Monroe, the 15-year old girl old whose name had been called, was making her way towards the stage in front of them; walking in a straight line towards imminent death.

 

Effie Trinket’s shrill voice brought Katniss back to reality. “And now, for the boys,” she announced.

 

Katniss opened her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath; only two words, repeated incessantly, occupied her thoughts. _Not Gale. Not Gale. Not Gale. Not_ …  

 

“Peeta Mellark,” Effie trilled from the stage.

 

Katniss’s eyes widened in surprise, and her hand rushed to cover her mouth. For a few seconds, the world stood still. A cold chill ran through her spine, and she forgot to release the breath she’d just taken.

 

She closed her eyes, desperately trying to block the world around her. The thick warm air she was holding burned her lungs, and she forced herself to release it. After managing a few shaky breaths, she shook her head in disbelief. _How is this even possible_ , she thought, _how many entries could he have had in that reaping bowl?_

 

Heavy, slow footsteps approached her. She opened her eyes and turned towards the sound.

 

There he was, Peeta Mellark, walking along the row of 16-year olds, making his way towards the center aisle that would lead him onto the stage. His broad shoulders were hunched forwards, and his blue eyes were trained on the ground, fear, and confusion written all over his face.

 

Every muscle in her body tensed. She felt like a tight bow, ready to snap. She trained her eyes on the blond merchant boy and wished he would look up like he’d done so many times before. She needed those blue eyes of his to land briefly on hers so that she could somehow comfort him. But he never looked up and, even if he had, what could she have done for him?

 

Peeta reached the stage, and Effie Trinket introduced him to his district partner. For the first time since his name had been called Peeta looked up. He shook Tessa’s hand and gave her a small smile while holding her gaze.

 

Tessa looked away from him as soon as the handshake was over, clearly trying to distance herself from her fellow tribute. It was pretty typical behavior. Why would you befriend someone you were meant to kill in a few days time?

 

Watching the exchange, Katniss couldn't help but wonder if Tessa knew just how kind and friendly Peeta Mellark normally was. Not that she had ever spoken to him, of course. But she had been on the receiving end of his kindness once, and she had seen him around often enough. Always surrounded by people, a smile dancing on his lips and a warm glow in his eyes.

 

What was going to happen now, she wondered, to the compassionate boy who’d taken a beating to feed a perfect stranger? _A perfect stranger who still hasn’t thanked him for his generosity_ , she reminded herself.

 

With the introductions out of the way, Effie Trinket concluded the ceremony with the same information she repeated every year.

 

“Be sure to tune in to tonight’s national broadcast, it will feature the reaping ceremonies on all 12 districts,” she chirped.

 

Then she turned around, clapped her hands twice to draw the attention of the teenagers assembled on the stage, and went on to usher them into the justice building. As soon as Effie and the tributes disappeared, the crowd let out a collective sigh. The nightmare was over. They were safe. They had been granted one more year.

 

The crowd assembled on the square began to disperse; friends and siblings found each other and embraced. Shy bouts of nervous laughter rang through the air.

 

For a few minutes, everyone was happy, everyone was at peace. Everyone. Except for a 16-year old boy, a 15-year old girl, and both of their families.

 

But Katniss didn't move. She stood, rooted to her spot, unable to take her eyes away from the door which led into the justice building; the door Peeta Mellark had just disappeared into.

 

She wondered if he was feeling any better now, away from the district’s sad eyes. For the next hour, he was going to be trapped inside the justice building, saying goodbye to his family and friends.

 

She didn’t even want to imagine how horrible that would be, being forced to leave her sister behind.

 

She shook her head. _I don't need to worry about that today. I'm safe. Prim is safe._ The thought brought a small smile back to her lips. Prim was safe.

 

Just as these thoughts flashed through her mind, she heard a deep voice calling out her name. She turned around to find Gale. He was rushing towards her with outstretched arms and bright smile hanging on his lips.

 

“We made it!” he said. “I’m done! I’m free, Catnip. I’m free!”

 

Before she could even blink, he was enveloping her in a crushing hug and lifting her off the ground.

 

“Yes,” she managed. “Congratulations, Gale.” She tried to sound enthusiastic, but it fell a little flat.

 

Gale let go of her and took in her serious expression.

 

“Well, I know you’re not out in the clear yet,” he said, in what sounded almost like an apology. “But you’re off the hook for one more year, you know? And Prim is as safe as she can be. So why are you still standing here, looking as stiff as a board?”

 

“I’m not as stiff as a board!”

 

“Hmm, you don’t look particularly festive either.”

 

Just as she was about to tell him that being granted a one-year reprieve was not something she felt like celebrating she saw Prim walking towards them.

 

“Hey, little duck!” Katniss greeted her sister. “See? I told you there was nothing for you to worry about.”

 

The younger girl stepped into her sister’s arms and buried her face in the older girl’s chest.

 

“It was terrifying,” Prim admitted after a moment. “And, I feel terrible for Tessa and Peeta. We’ll probably never see them again.”

 

Katniss rubbed her sister’s back soothingly and shook her head.

 

“We shouldn’t count them out just yet, little duck. They might come back,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.

 

“Come on Catnip, be realistic,” Gale intervened “how many tributes from Twelve have actually made it back? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be cruel, but Prim’s right. Chances are we’ll never see any of them again.”

 

She knew her friend was only being practical, but she didn't want to accept he was right. A flash of hot anger ran through her body, heating her temper.

 

“So, what are we supposed to do now, huh? Just forget about them?” she countered. “They haven’t even left the justice building yet, and you’re already celebrating!” The anger seeping into her voice startled her, but she kept firm.

 

Prim took a small step back and studied her sister.

 

Katniss glowered under Gale’s questioning look. She knew he was probably wondering what had gotten into her. She was never this concerned about people she wasn’t related to and, after the last two reapings, she had celebrated her good fortune by joining Gale and some of their neighbors over by the Meadow.

 

“Are you ok?” Prim asked.

 

“Yes, little duck, I'm all right. It’s just… How would you feel Gale?” she demanded as she turned to face her friend. “If it had been someone you knew, someone who had been kind to you? Would you react any differently? Would you feel anything besides relief at not being chosen? Would you still feel like celebrating your good luck?”

 

Gale studied her face for a moment, a sad cloud marred his features. “I’m sorry, Catnip, I didn’t realize…" His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I didn’t know you were friends with her." Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "You know what, though? You’re right. They’re still here. I bet you could still go in to see her if you wanted to.”

 

Katniss stood still, was this something she wanted to do, she wondered.

 

She’d already waited five years to thank the baker’s son for the incredible gift he’d given her. And, under normal circumstances, she probably would have waited for five more. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and though she hated admitting it, Prim and Gale were probably right. There was a big chance that she’d never get to see him again. Was she willing to live with this debt for the rest of her life? Would she be able to live with herself knowing that she’d never thanked him; that she’d never acknowledged what he’d done for her?

 

She didn’t have to wonder long. She knew what the answer was. Peeta Mellark had helped her when no one else would, and thanking him for his kindness was the least she could do.

 

She thanked Gale for the suggestion and turned to face her sister to assure her that she was fine and that she could go to the Justice Building on her own.

 

“Tell mom I’ll be home as soon as I’m done here, alright?”

 

Prim nodded and hugged her once more before finally letting go.

 

Katniss was already walking towards the Justice Building when Gale called out.

 

“Hey, Catnip, I can wait here for you if you like.”

 

She turned around to face him but kept on walking backward.

 

“Thanks, Gale, but that’s not necessary. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

 

“Tomorrow?” He frowned. “Aren’t you coming to the Meadow later?”

 

“Nope, not this year. Have fun, though. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

And with that she turned around, effectively ending their conversation.

 

As she walked away, she realized she hadn’t corrected Gale. Why had he assumed she was talking about Tessa? Was it because she was a girl, or because she was Seam?

 

She knew her friend had no love for the district’s merchants. He was always complaining about how their lives were so much easier than those of the district’s miners. He’d spend hours on end criticizing the unfairness of a system which allowed merchants to live their lives without asking for help from the state while it forced the poor miners’ families to ask for rations. Meager rations. Rations that meant adding their names more times into the reaping bowl; rations that meant that the odds were never in their favor.

 

But the odds were a funny thing, weren’t they? Because Gale, the Seam boy with 42 entries was out in the Meadow celebrating with his friends while Peeta --the merchant boy who’d only had five pieces of paper inside that horrible bowl-- was being whisked away to the Capitol. So how was that fair? As far as she could tell, being a merchant hadn’t kept Peeta safe.  

 

As she thought about it, she realized she didn’t mind the misunderstanding. Not one bit. She had always kept her brief encounter with Peeta Mellark a secret. She hadn’t wanted to cause him any more trouble than she already had.

 

Strangely enough, he’d never confronted her about it. He’d never asked for anything. In a way, she hated him for that. It would have been easier to deal with his reproach than with the guilt that still gnawed at her each time she remembered the incident.

 

If she hadn’t been able to discuss the episode with Peeta, she didn’t see why she had to discuss it with anyone else. Besides, it wasn’t like she owed Gale Hawthorne any explanations anyway.

 

As soon as she reached the Justice Building, she saw how silly her idea had been. In the time it had taken her to make up her mind and walk over there, a large group of people had gathered.

 

She'd hardly walked through the door when a Peacekeeper stopped her. The officer, one of Greasy Sae’s regular customers, wasted no time in telling her that the tributes’ visiting timeslots had already been filled.

 

Her chest tightened, and tears began to well behind her eyes. _This is it then_ , she thought. _I waited too long. I never said anything, and now Peeta will be gone_.

 

Her throat closed, making it impossible for her to breathe. She gasped for air.

 

Closing her eyes, Katniss brought her hand to her forehead. The feeling of her fingers tracing slow circles on her brow comforted her, and she managed to get her breathing under control. She opened her eyes and faced the Peacekeeper once more.

 

The officer’s eyes were friendly and pained. In a soft murmur that sounded more like an apology than an instruction, he told her she was free to stay in the lobby until the tributes were escorted to the train station.

 

“You might be able to catch one last glimpse of your friend before she leaves the district. Who knows? You might even get to say goodbye,” he added with a sad smile and a small wink.

 

Katniss nodded in understanding and moved over to the far wall at the other side of the room.

 

She had been so disappointed that she’d barely registered the Peacekeeper’s words. But, once she’d settled in her spot, she felt a sudden rush of thick liquid rage coursing through her veins.

 

 _What is it with the people in this district?_ She thought. _I’m not here to say ‘goodbye’. I’m here to say ‘thank you’._

 

She could feel her frustration getting the better of her, so she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and tried to focus all her attention on the door across the hall.

 

Whatever she felt, however she felt, was not important. The only thing that mattered was that the baker’s son was on the other side of that door. Even if she couldn’t speak to him, she was going to be there for him. It was literally the least she could do.

 

Minutes went by. People came and went. Katniss stood on her spot and waited.

 

Her nerves were frayed, she was growing restless. She hated feeling powerless. She was so anxious she almost laughed out loud when she realized her interactions with Peeta Mellark always seemed to be fueled by panic.

 

She still remembered how miserable she’d been that day five years before, as ice-cold rain pelted her skin, and her empty stomach grumbled. Her father was gone, and her mother had withdrawn into herself, leaving Katniss and Prim to manage on their own.

 

There was nothing to eat at home, and the money the state had given her had run out. She’d been truly desperate. She’d lost all hope.

 

That’s when she'd seen him, looking well fed and strong, as he’d stepped out of the bakery’s back door with two loaves of burnt bread cradled in his arms and a big red welt under his eye.

 

Without so much as a glance, he’d thrown the loaves in her direction, and he’d hurried back inside.

 

She'd taken the bread, tucked it under her shirt, and ran away as fast as her legs could carry her. She hadn't stopped running until she'd reached the Seam. The one place where she felt like she could breathe again without being judged by those who didn't have to rummage through empty trash cans to feed their families.

 

That bread had filled Prim’s belly, and it had given Katniss the strength to carry on. 

 

She’d never thanked Peeta for it. But she hadn’t forgotten. How could she?

 

Peeta Mellark had been the only person in the entire district who had been willing to help her when she’d needed it the most, and he’d received nothing in return. Well, nothing from Katniss, anyway. He had received a beating from his mother, though. A thrashing which had left him with a purple eye for the better part of a fortnight, and a chipped tooth for the better part of a year.

 

Katniss’s heart had hurt every time he spoke in class in the months that followed the incident. The soft lisp that distorted his words a constant reminder of just how much he’d done for her.

 

She had wanted to thank him for the gesture, many times. But she’d never found the right moment.

 

She shook her head as she reminded herself that he was still across the hallway, behind that damned door. He wasn’t on his way to the Capitol. Not yet. She might still get to talk to him, to finally thank him for his generosity. Maybe knowing how he’d saved her once would cheer him up. It might motivate him actually, to give it a try. That was all he really needed, she thought, a little motivation.

 

Time dragged on, and her mind wandered restlessly, coming up with different scenarios of what might happen once Peeta stepped out into the hallway.

 

She imagined him smiling warmly at her, keeping those deep blue eyes of his trained on hers. She could almost see him opening his arms out to her as she walked into his embrace and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight as she thanked him for what he’d done for her. She could see herself, standing on the tips of her toes, her cheek pressed against his, her lips a hairsbreadth away from the shell of his ear as she whispered soft assurances that no one else could hear. She would remind him of his strength, of his skill as a wrestler, and of the fact that he was smart. Others had survived on much less. So why wouldn’t he?

 

The sound of a door opening brought her back to her senses. Her cheeks flushed furiously as she recalled what she’d been thinking about. Where had those ideas come from, she wondered?

 

The first one to leave the room was Rye, Peeta’s middle brother, looking as white as a sheet. As soon as the door closed behind him, he collapsed in a heap on the floor where he proceeded to run his fingers through his hair and mutter quietly to himself. His parents came out a couple of minutes later. Mr. Mellark rushed to help his son while his wife walked towards the exit.

 

Her determined footsteps resounded loudly on the tiled floor.

 

The baker’s face was stained with tears. Katniss didn't even have to strain her ears to hear his voice breaking as he tried to get his son to stand up.

 

For a split second, she wanted to hate Rye. She wanted to hate him for not being able to keep his emotions under control. She wanted to hate him for acting like he was the one who’d been just sentenced to death. But, more importantly, she wanted to hate him for not taking his younger brother’s place.

 

She tried hating him. She tried with all her might. But she couldn't. Who was she to ask him to give up his life for someone else's? She couldn't expect him to forget his dreams, and to cancel his future, just because some asinine government official had decided to invite his brother to a death match. Most people she knew wouldn't do it. She couldn't even remember the last time someone from Twelve had volunteered for the Games.

 

Eventually, Mr. Mellark managed to get his middle son to stand up. He wrapped an arm around the young man’s shoulders, and slowly led him out of the building. Katniss heard the door closing once again. With all the commotion, she hadn't been paying attention to the other visitors, and she didn't know who had gone inside.

 

Tessa’s parents came out of the girl's room a few minutes later. Their eyes were puffy and red. A resigned sense of defeat hung from their shoulders. Her eyes followed them as they traveled along the same path the Mellarks had taken, leaving their daughter inside the cold stone building and walking out into the scorching summer heat.

 

Minutes ticked away. People came and went. Katniss waited.

 

There were many familiar faces among Peeta's visitors. Most of them were kids her age. Merchant kids she had shared a classroom with, but whom she’d never spoken to.

 

They were boys and girls, who cared about parties, and clothes, and apprenticeships in their families’ businesses; teenagers who hadn't been burdened with the task of caring for their younger siblings after their parents’ deaths, classmates who were Peeta's friends. She’d spent her life ignoring them, and now she briefly wished she hadn't; if only so that she could ask them about Peeta's state of mind. Were they comforting him? Were they giving him hope? Or were they merely commiserating with him, telling him how sorry they were, and saying goodbye?

 

The door opened once again, and Katniss's eyes widened in surprise. Out of all the kids in town, she had never expected to see the quiet and reserved Madge Undersee coming out of Peeta's room.

 

The gentle, soft-spoken teenager was one of Katniss's best friends and, for a split second, Katniss considered waving her over to her spot. But one look into the blond girl’s vacant stare quickly changed her mind.

 

Madge didn’t want to be bothered.

 

Mayor Undersee’s daughter lowered her eyes to the ground and walked towards the exit. She didn’t look up once. If she had, she would have noticed Katniss’s furrowed brow following her every movement.

 

The door opened one last time, and a Peacekeeper stepped out into the hallway. Peeta Mellark stood a few steps behind.

 

A cold shiver ran along Katniss's spine at the sight of him.

 

Puffy eyes. Tear-stained cheeks. Peeta looked weak and frightened. It was almost as if he’d already given up.

 

Something between a sigh and a quiet sob escaped Katniss's lips.

 

Peeta turned towards the sound. His eyes landed on Katniss's and, for once, he didn't look away.

 

Neither did she.

 

Peeta’s eyes widened. The smallest of gasps escaped his trembling lips.

 

She held his stare.

 

Her heart thrummed madly inside her chest making her whole body buzz with nervous energy. She was so anxious she could hardly breathe, but she didn't look away. She held onto Peeta's gaze like it was a lifeline, her last connection to the generous, selfless boy who had given her hope.

 

Thoughts bounced madly inside her head. She was overwhelmed by everything she wanted to say to him. She desperately needed him to know how much he meant to her, and how much she regretted the words she’d never said.

 

Words. Katniss had never been good with words.

 

Her heart rate slowed as she silently hoped the merchant boy would understand what her eyes were screaming, what her lips couldn’t say.

 

A few steps down the hallway Tessa’s door opened. A peacekeeper stepped out of the girl’s room.

 

Katniss didn’t move a muscle.

 

Time stood still as Peeta’s eyes bore into hers, like two drills, piercing their way into her thoughts.

 

Suddenly, everything changed.

 

Peeta's actions were subtle, but there was no mistaking their meaning. The baker’s son straightened his stance and squared his shoulders. He locked his jaw, and nodded, just once.

 

Katniss smiled.

 

The scared, hesitant boy who had come out of the room was gone. In just a few seconds, he had turned into a man. A man who looked like he could hold his ground, and like he had something to prove, a man who seemed to be on a mission.

 

Outside, peacekeepers were issuing instructions. The train station’s whistle rang.

 

Peeta turned towards the exit, following his peacekeeper’s lead, and effectively ending his wordless conversation with Katniss.

 

Visiting hours were over. It was time to go.

 

Officers and tributes began moving towards the exit.

 

A thick lump settled on Katniss’s throat. Impotence and a sense of emptiness washed over her as she watched the boy who had helped her survive the worst days of her life walking out of the building, and into the train station.

 


	2. The Parade

 

The town square was completely bare by the time Katniss left the Justice Building. It had taken a little over an hour for the cleanup crew to remove all evidence of the reaping. The ceremony was over. Everyone wanted to forget.

 

Her feet moved silently along the uneven pavement. She felt numb.

 

She walked through the town square and sat on a bench across the street from the bakery. A long line of customers spilled out through the open door. She crossed her arms over her chest and snorted, annoyed by the overwhelming need for baked goods which had apparently taken over the district.

 

She couldn't believe the gall of some people! Flooding the bakery just so they could catch a glimpse of a grieving family!

 

Her eyes wandered to the side of the building. The beautifully decorated cakes her sister always admired were still on display.

 

She had wanted to get one for Prim, a special treat to celebrate a special milestone --surviving a reaping was important when you lived in the Seam-- but she didn't have enough coins to pay for it, and she didn't want to bother Mr. Mellark with her trade.

 

She wasn't ready to go home yet. So, she sat under the scorching sun and tried to collect her thoughts.

 

She knew Peeta had seen her.  She was certain he had understood what she'd been trying to tell him --the way he'd changed, right in front of her eyes, spoke to that-- but when all was said and done, would a new attitude be enough?

 

He wasn't going away on vacation, he was being sent into an arena where he would have to fight for his life.

 

Her heart sank as she realized he would be expected to kill, or at least outlive, 23 other people.

 

Her stubborn mind refused to believe she would never see him again, but she knew the odds weren't exactly in his favor.

 

For the second time that day she kept still, watching the world move around her.

 

People came and went about their business. Those who left the bakery tried to look solemn as they clutched their small parcels, wrapped in brown paper, with anxious fingers. But she could see relieved smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths.

 

She couldn't blame them for being pleased. No one wanted their child to be chosen for the Games.

 

With a heavy heart, she stood up and made her way back home.

 

Most houses were empty by the time she reached the Seam. Miners didn't have many chances to spend a summer day outdoors, and they relished the opportunity to head out into the Meadow. They liked to spend the day basking in the sun, enjoying the feeling of being alive.

 

Seam families never had much, but summer was always plentiful and, for one night, they'd share whatever they could spare with their friends and neighbors. Bonfires were lit as soon as the sun went down, and small string instruments and flutes were fished from their hiding places. Music, song and joyous laughter would ring across the open field all through the night.

 

A couple of families were always absent from the celebration. Those whose children had been selected to appease what Gale called "the central government's thirst for blood." They would stay home, with the shutters closed and try to block the world outside.

 

They didn't blame everyone else for celebrating. Everyone knew how close they all were to being selected, how narrow their escape was each year. But, for a few hours, the lucky ones were allowed to forget.

 

Katniss was grateful for the silence that greeted her as she stepped into the cool refuge of her empty house.

 

Soft specks of dust danced in the sunlight. Something about the way they floated around the room reminded her of dandelion spores flying through the air, blown away into a carelessly placed wish. "Hope with wings," Prim always called them.

 

Katniss's eyes filled with tears. Dandelions were weeds. Nutritious and tasty even, but they were fragile and could easily be destroyed.

 

Wishes and hope were dangerous things. They created expectations; they made people believe in things that were beyond their reach.

 

Life had taught her to be practical and realistic. Why was she having such a hard time accepting what had happened earlier in the day? What was it about Peeta Mellark that blinded her judgment and made her so stubborn? She had known tributes before. Why was this year any different?

 

She knew why.

 

Fat tears fell freely down her cheeks, and she sighed dejectedly. Her quiet whimpers were soon replaced by loud choking sounds as she sobbed without control.

 

She crumbled to the floor, finally crushed by the weight of the guilt she'd been carrying on her shoulders since Peeta had given her that bread.

 

She had never wanted a dandelion wish so much in her life.

 

Eventually, the sobbing stopped.

 

Katniss stood up and walked towards the bathroom on unsteady feet. Her mother and Prim would be back soon. She didn't want to greet them with a tear-streaked face and a nose full of snot.

 

By the time her family came home, Katniss had regained her composure, but her eyes were still puffy from all the crying she'd done before.

 

Prim was the first one to arrive. Her curious eyes had examined her sister before she asked, "How did it go? Did you get there on time?"

 

Katniss's mouth went dry. She wasn't ready to talk about her visit to the Justice Building, but she knew Prim wasn't going to let the matter drop.

 

She quickly explained about the visiting times being taken, and then she added, "Well, at least I saw them when they left for the train station."

 

"That's better than nothing!" Prim declared with a cheerful smile that was so contagious Katniss had no choice but to return it.

 

She'd never been more grateful for her sister's optimism.

 

The rest of the day flew by. Katniss spent the afternoon working around the house. She helped her mother organize her medicinal herbs, and she carried buckets full of water to wash Prim's goat. She also cleaned and gutted the fish she'd caught earlier in the day.

 

No one mentioned the town square, the Justice Building, or the reaping again.

 

The somber mood that had wrapped their small home in the early hours of the morning seemed to evaporate as the three women finished their chores. Prim's excitement over surviving her first reaping was infectious, and Katniss lost herself in her sister's happiness.

 

But, once she turned the lights turned off, emptiness crept in, enveloping her in a tight grip.

 

She tried burrowing under the covers and holding Prim tightly against her chest. But the small girl wiggled out of her grasp and issued a sleepy complaint. Summertime wasn't the season for cuddling, after all.

 

The dark night dragged on. Katniss didn't sleep a wink.

 

* * *

 

Katniss stood on the far corner of the town square. She closed her eyes and tried to block the world around her as she willed her body to relax.

 

She had spent the better part of the day running around the woods, collecting berries, cleaning snares, and setting up traps under an unforgiving midday sun. Her lower back ached, her feet were sore, and she could feel a blister forming on her left thumb. She was exhausted.

 

The last 30 hours of her life had passed in a blur of conflicting emotions.

 

The relief she usually felt after a reaping had quickly been replaced by dread when she'd heard Effie Trinket's shrill voice calling Peeta Mellark up onto the stage. It seemed like the world hadn't stopped spinning since then.

 

Gale's raspy voice startled her. "So, Catnip, ready to watch the show?"

 

She opened her eyes, surprised by the softness of his tone, and briefly wondered why he'd suddenly decided to coddle her. It wasn't like him to treat her with such care. Gale was usually blunt and clear. That was something she'd always appreciated, knowing that she could always get a straight answer from him.

 

She didn't really care for this side of him, she realized. It made her feel small and fragile. It annoyed her.

 

She crossed her arms and huffed. "Not particularly, no."

 

Beside her, Gale nodded.

 

She turned to look at him. Fresh haircut, clean shave, and new clothes. Miner's clothes.

 

There was a reason why she'd spent all day running around the woods on her own.

 

Gale was 18. There would be no more reapings for him and no more school. No more traipsing through the woods until nightfall either.

 

The only thing he had to look forward to was a future of endless days, trapped underground, as he toiled to extract dirty coal from the district's deepest mines. Her heart ached for him.

 

"How was your first day?" she asked.

 

"It was all right."

 

He was looking straight ahead, but she knew he wasn't looking at the giant screens which had been set up against the facade of the Justice Building.

 

She followed his gaze. His eyes were locked on the small patch of trees that grew behind the town square. A wistful smile curved his lips.

 

It had only been one day, but she could already feel her hunting partner slipping away. How was he going to survive, stuck inside those dark tunnels, day after day? 

 

His voice brought her back.  "So, how are you? Everything ok?"

 

There it was, that concerned tone again. Katniss ignored it, choosing to focus on more practical matters instead.

 

"Sure," she nodded. "I collected everything, and I reset your snares. I even had time to stop by the Hob and trade a couple of things. I've left your share over at my place. You can pick it up when we're done here."

 

"Good. Good." Gale scanned the square. "Looks like there's a good turnout tonight."

 

She looked around. He was right. It was almost as full as it had been the previous day. It made sense, people usually preferred to watch the tribute parade out on the open. It gave them a chance to breathe some fresh air. Nobody wanted to be stuck inside a small house during a muggy summer night if they could help it.

 

Besides, it was easier to forget that you were being forced to watch 24 children being presented, like lambs to the slaughter, to the Capitol crowds if you were surrounded by your neighbors and friends.

 

The regulations from the central government stipulated that certain portions of the broadcast of the Hunger Games were mandatory. People were expected to follow these televised reports either from home or from the screens that had been set up in the town's central square.

 

Most of the coverage of the Games was transmitted over a live feed, but no one was expected to watch them in their entirety. People had to work, after all.

 

Nighttime shows were a different story, though. They were never optional. Most of the times they were no more than recaps of what had happened inside the arena during the day. But there were times when they aired a special show, produced exclusively for the occasion. The tribute parade was one of those shows, it was also the official start of each year's Games.  The selected tributes from all twelve districts were presented to the Capitol for the first time during the televised ceremony.

 

Some people actually enjoyed this broadcast. Watching the tributes from the richest districts as they traversed along the Capitol's city circle was quite a spectacle. They always looked beautiful, brave and powerful as they rode in front of Panem's elite on horse-drawn chariots, their chests covered with plates of gold adorned with precious stones. Their eyes were bright, their smiles wide, and their skin always had the rosy glow of those who haven't missed a single meal.

 

Compared to them the tributes from District 12 usually looked like dung beetles. Small, dark, and forgettable.

 

Katniss raised to the tips of her toes and craned her neck to get a better look at the open space.

 

There were a few peacekeepers, walking along the lines of people who had assembled to watch the show. She knew they were conducting a head count. They always kept track of the population during mandatory viewing times. A few others were stationed along the sides of the square, keeping everyone locked in place.

 

Her eyes landed on her mother and Prim. They were standing on the left side of the square, talking to Mrs. Asbury and her youngest daughter, Penny.

 

Katniss smiled at the sight of the two young girls. They looked like a couple of conspirators, with arms linked and heads bent down, deeply involved in some private conversation. It might have been worrisome, except for the subtle, but constant, movement of their shoulders, a telltale sign of their incessant giggling.

 

Her eyes wandered to the other side of the square. She found Mrs. Mellark and the rest of Peeta's family standing next to Mayor Undersee and his wife.

 

Madge was there too. Standing next to Bran, Peeta's oldest brother. Katniss saw her friend nod as the blond man whispered something in her ear.

 

Katniss frowned, puzzled.

 

Madge had never mentioned Bran or any of the Mellarks for that matter, and still, there she was, hobnobbing with them.

 

"Looks like your townie friend is very chummy with the baker's son," Gale's words echoed her thoughts.

 

Something about his tone rubbed her the wrong way, though.

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "She's not chummy with him, they're just talking. Why do you have to make it sound like they're doing something wrong? Mr. Mellark and the mayor are probably friends."

 

That made perfect sense. They were roughly the same age, and they were practically neighbors. She wouldn't be surprised if the mayor were one of the bakery's best customers.

 

"Ok, settle down, " Gale soothed, "you're probably right."

 

Katniss huffed. Satisfied with her small victory.

 

But there was a nagging uneasiness at the pit of her stomach. As good as her arguments were, they didn't really explain why quiet, reserved Madge seemed so familiar with Bran; or why she'd visited Peeta's room the previous day.

 

The grandiose timbre of fanfare, blaring through enormous loudspeakers, snapped her out of her thoughts.

 

The show was about to begin.

 

Silence fell over the square as the light from the lampposts which surrounded it was dimmed.

 

The large screens flickered to life, projecting Panem's official seal. After a few seconds, the image was replaced by a sweeping shot of the Capitol's city circle. 

 

The crowd in District 12 kept their eyes trained on the screens as Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, the perpetual anchors for the Hunger Games, blathered on, discussing past games, new trends, and the latest fashion choices in the Capitol.

 

Katniss blocked out most of their commentary. She didn't care about Capitol celebrities and whether they wore pink or yellow wigs when they went out for coffee with their friends.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Caesar Flickerman's announcement boomed through loudspeakers all over Panem. "This is the moment we've all been waiting for. Let the 74th tribute parade commence!"

 

The sound of fanfare filled the air once more as District 1's chariot, pulled by two magnificent horses, showed up on the screen.

 

Katniss began twisting the end of her braid around her finger, a nervous tic she'd never been able to control.

 

The Capitol crowds cheered and clapped as the lavishly adorned tributes made their first appearance.

 

A sense of dread wrapped around Katniss's small frame at the sight of them.  The boy was tall and robust, and the girl looked gorgeous and self-assured as she smiled seductively and waved at the audience.

 

The second chariot was not much better.

 

The massive blond boy from District 2 smiled smugly. The icy glare from his blue eyes sent a shiver down Katniss's spine. His female district partner was a bit smaller, but she looked just as scary standing firmly by his side. A vicious sneer turned her lips.

 

"Wow! Wouldn't want to run into her in a dark alley," Gale whispered. "She looks positively bloodthirsty."

 

Katniss nodded, her heart pattered anxiously. _How is Peeta going to deal with these four beasts?_

 

Minutes went by as chariot after chariot glided across the screen. Some tributes looked confident and brawny while others looked small and weak.

 

The girl from 3 shook like an autumn leaf inside her chariot. She was so unsteady that Katniss was surprised she didn't fall off of her vehicle.

 

The boy from District 4 reminded her of the famous victor Finnick Odair, with his bronze curls and piercing green eyes. According to Caesar Flickerman, though, the tribute and his handsome mentor weren't related.

 

The girl from District 5 immediately caught Katniss's attention. She had a shock of red hair, a pointed nose, and beady eyes.

 

"She looks like a fox, doesn't she?" she asked her hunting partner.

 

Gale squinted at the screen. "Uh, a little maybe. The way she's looking at everything around her… it's like she's studying her surroundings. She looks smart."

 

Katniss agreed.

 

The tributes from District 8 showed up covered in thick quilts made from a patchwork of different fabrics. They looked like they had just gotten out of bed.

 

Katniss rolled her eyes. "Some stylists aren't even trying. Who's going to take these guys seriously?"

 

"Too bad they won't be carrying those quilts into the arena, though. They look warm and comfy. And you know what Caesar always says, ‘a good night's sleep is often times a decisive factor when it comes to a showdown between tributes,'" Gale quipped.

 

Katniss twisted the end of her braid around her finger in a futile attempt to distract herself from the anxiety that coursed through her veins. District 8 wasn't one of the richest districts, but it wasn't as poor as Twelve. Their tributes usually managed to get a few sponsors who sent them gifts and helped them survive in the arena. But this year's stylists seemed to have given up on their tributes.

 

If District 8 was discouraged, what could she expect from Twelve; the poorest district in the country, a district that had only won the Games twice in 73 years.

 

District 11's chariot filled the screen. Katniss's heart sank.

 

Tears welled behind her eyelids as she watched a solid, imposing boy towering over the small, slender girl who stood on shaky legs by his side.

 

The brief flash of concern which crossed the giant's eyes as he looked at his young partner made her want to scream.

 

"She's so young!" she hissed. "She looks just like Prim!"

 

"She looks nothing like Prim!" Gale countered.

 

"Her hair and skin tone are different but…look at her!" Katniss pointed towards the screen, "she can't be much older than my sister. And those thin arms… she's like a small bird."

 

Gale nodded. "Standing next to that mountain of a man isn't helping her case either. Did you see the size of his hands?"

 

Katniss swallowed thickly through the lump that had settled in her throat. District 12 was up next.

 

Night had already fallen on the town square when a warm, flickering light appeared on the screen. At first, it was small, like the spark of a match, but it kept moving, looking progressively bigger as it approached its audience.

 

Katniss watched as it grew from the soft flame of a candle to the mighty blast of a bonfire.

 

The audience gasped in terror when they saw the angry ball of fire coming towards them.

 

Suddenly, the smoke surrounding the blazing chariot cleared and Peeta and Tessa appeared, completely unharmed, in front of the roaring fire.

 

Both tributes were covered in black jumpsuits that reflected the flames which sparked from the capes at their backs.

 

Katniss smiled relieved at the sight of them. Unlike other tributes, they didn't seem to be wearing any makeup.

 

Tessa's gray Seam eyes shone reflecting the flames that surrounded her petite frame. She reminded Katniss of the mine fairies her father used to tell her about when she was younger.

 

The sight of Peeta made her knees buckle.

 

He was the same boy she knew, only better. His cheeks were slightly flushed. His ocean blue eyes shone brightly as he pointed them directly towards the camera and the carefully styled waves of blond hair that fell over his forehead shone like polished gold.

 

She itched to run her fingers through them.

 

Surprised by the thought, she clasped her hands tightly to her chest. She didn't pull her eyes away from the screen, though. She didn't want to miss a single moment.

 

District 12's chariot kept moving across the central avenue.

 

The Capitol audiences went mad with excitement. Their surprised screams and cheers at the sight of the flaming chariot resounded all over the country.

 

Caesar and Claudius couldn't hide their admiration. They babbled incessantly, trying to remember if they'd ever seen anything like it before. Apparently, they hadn't.

 

Through it all, Tessa and Peeta smiled and waved.

 

Gale's question brought Katniss out of her trance. "Are they holding hands?"

 

Her eyes traveled along Peeta's right arm. _Yes, they are._

 

Katniss frantically searched her mind trying to find an explanation. It wasn't common for tributes to hold hands. Ever. Even when the careers established alliances, they were never friends. They never touched each other.

 

A sudden thought filled her mind pushing the air out of her lungs. _Are Peeta and Tessa friends?_

 

Her heart raced as she tried to recall everything she knew about Tessa Monroe. She wasn't surprised to discover it wasn't much. Other than seeing her around school and at the Seam sometimes she'd had no contact with her.

 

She trained her eyes on the ground and tried to focus on what she remembered from the reaping ceremony the previous day.

 

Tessa's stance came to her mind, stiff and formal as she shook Peeta's hand. There had been nothing friendly about the exchange.

 

Katniss sighed. Either Tessa was the best actress in 12, or she had never spoken to Peeta Mellark in her life.

 

The second option seemed more likely.

 

Katniss's heart slowed down as she relaxed. Straightening up, she turned towards Gale who was eyeing her curiously. "You alright there, Catnip?"

 

"Yeah. I don't think they're friends," she declared.

 

"What?"

 

"Tessa and Peeta," she said, turning to face the screen once more. "I don't know why they're holding hands, but they're not friends."

 

"Oh, I didn't think they were. Merchant boys rarely befriend Seam girls. Especially when they're as young as Tessa here,” His tone turned somber. “Not much chance for funny business there.”

 

A burst of hot anger exploded inside her chest. "Gale!" she reprimanded.

 

"What?"

 

"Peeta's not like that!" she protested. Her nails dug into the skin of her clasped hands, and she glared at her friend, challenging him to say one more word.

 

Her hunting partner stood still, evidently surprised by her sudden outburst, and looked at her through narrowed eyes.

 

She knew that look, she had seen it often enough when they were out in the woods. He thought something was wrong and he was trying to figure out what it was.

 

Well, she wasn't sure of what was happening herself, and she was in no mood to be analyzed by someone else, so she directed all the anger she was feeling towards her friend and hoped he'd get the message.

 

He did.

 

After a moment, he shook his head raised his hands in mock surrender.

 

"Fine. Forget I said anything," Gale grumbled.

 

Satisfied, Katniss nodded and turned to face the screen once more.

 

All the chariots had reached the front of the president's mansion. They were assembled in a semicircle, facing the podium President Snow would use to address the country.

 

The camera moved along the row of tributes, giving a quick overview of every chariot. Once it reached the end of the semicircle, it stopped, focusing on District 12's vehicle.

 

Tessa and Peeta's faces filled the screens, flames still danced behind their backs making them glow against the darkened sky.

 

Katniss's heart skipped a beat. There, reflected on the enormous screen, displayed for the whole world to see, was a round bird-shaped pin.

 

The golden brooch flickered brightly on Peeta's lapel, reflecting the tongues of fire dancing behind Tessa's back.

 

Gale's voice broke the spell, "Is that--,"

 

"Madge's pin."

 

 

 


	3. Family

Days dragged on.

 

Every morning, Katniss rose from bed before sunrise and walked, on silent hunter’s feet, along the streets of the Seam until she reached the gap in the chain link which was furthest from the town.

 

The stifling summer heat, and the heightened peacekeeper surveillance during the Games, meant that she had to be extra cautious about slipping under the fence into the forbidden woods.

  

Visiting peacekeepers were stricter, but they rarely ventured far from the merchant’s quarter if they could help it, so it wasn't hard to avoid running into them.

 

Once outside, she followed a tight schedule.

 

The woods were always plentiful during the summer. Berry bushes and apple trees were laden with fruit. Gale’s snares and traps were always full of game.

 

She would have liked to spend her morning walking around, enjoying the smells and sounds of a forest which was bursting with life, but she only had a couple of hours before inspections began and someone noticed she was missing.

 

She had to make every minute count. So, she rushed through the forest, filling her hunting bag to the brim, and occasionally stopping to drink water from the small canteen which hung from her belt.

 

Things were always better once the Games were over. The extra peacekeepers went back to the Capitol, and security became less strict.

 

No one minded if she stayed in the woods for a little longer then. Head Peacekeeper Cray and his deputies were some of her best customers, after all.

  

By the time she reached the fence and went back into the district, the entire town had woken up.

 

The miners were already hard at work, the shops in town were open, and the vendors at the Hob were getting ready to exchange their wares.

 

Her first stop after crawling under the fence was the black market.

 

Her heavy bag banged against her hip with every step she took along the roundabout route which kept her hidden from the peacekeepers’ curious eyes.

 

Most of her visits to the Hob began with a stop at Greasy Sae’s stall. The old woman was always fair in her trades, and more than a little generous when it came to serving the portions of day-old soup she used as payment for Katniss’s goods.

 

After having breakfast, Katniss would walk around the market and conduct the rest of her trade. On regular days, she completed her trading route by visiting some of the merchants in town.

 

Sometimes, she included head peacekeeper Cray into her list of house calls, but she preferred to leave that part of the trade to Gale. She had never liked the way old Cray ogled her when she walked past him; like a hungry wolf, licking his lips as he waited for young desperate Seam girls to fall into his clutches.

 

But these weren't ordinary days. So, Katniss did all her trading at the Hob and went straight to Gale's house when she was done.

 

* * *

 

By the time Katniss stopped by to deliver Gale's share, Hazelle was already elbow deep in warm, sudsy water. A gentle smile curved her lips as soon as she saw her son’s hunting partner.

 

Katniss smiled back.

 

“That's a heavy looking bag!” Hazelle said, pointing her chin to the canvas sack hanging from Katniss’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah, we had a good day today!”

 

Turning serious, Hazelle asked, “Are you getting your fair share?”

 

Even though Gale was no longer able to go out into the woods every day, he and Katniss had struck a deal. He would set and keep his snare lines, supervising them on Sundays, and she would give his family a portion of whatever she caught each day.

 

Katniss nodded. “Like I said, it’s a good day.”

 

Satisfied, Hazelle went back to her wash.

 

Katniss watched her for a moment. Hazelle Hawthorne was hard-working and tough, but she was also a gentle soul who never failed to show her appreciation for the young huntress and for everything she did to help her family. In return, Katniss treated her with nothing but admiration and respect.

 

Hazelle had lost her husband the same day Mrs. Everdeen had lost hers, but she hadn’t allowed her grief to cripple her. Instead, the laundress had fought against adversity, keeping her children close to her heart as she plowed through her sadness.

 

Whenever Katniss had a dark day, she thought about Gale’s mother and how she hadn’t given up; how her fire and determination had united her family, making it stronger.

 

Katniss sometimes wondered what that was like; having a mother who could be trusted to care for you instead of a woman who was, at times, little more than another mouth to feed.

 

As years had gone by, Katniss had managed to provide for her family. Thanks to her efforts, Prim and her were healthier and better fed than most people in the Seam. But, just because she’d found a way to survive, it didn’t mean that she’d forgiven her mother for giving up on her and her sister after their father’s death.

 

Katniss had never interacted with Hazelle while Mr. Hawthorne was alive, but she had no reason to believe they hadn’t loved each other. They’d had four children together, after all. And still, becoming a widow hadn’t broken Hazelle’s spirit. Not the way it had broken Mrs. Everdeen’s.

 

After exchanging a few pleasantries with Hazelle, Katniss left Gale’s canvas sack, full of meat, fruits, and greens, on top of the kitchen table, and headed home.

 

Reaching the small house she shared with her mother and sister was one of her favorite moments of the day.

 

The place was cool and clean. The smell of freshly brewed mint tea and toasted bread hung in the air, and the faint murmur of Prim's voice came in through the open window.

 

Katniss chuckled to herself. _She’s talking to Lady again._

 

According to Prim, soft words soothed the goat and helped her relax, making milking easier.

 

Katniss was convinced that the goat was relaxed because Prim's hands were small and gentle and not because her voice had any magical powers, but she knew better than to contradict her baby sister.

 

Besides, that goat was the best thing she'd ever bought. It was a little gold mine which provided a regular supply of milk and cheese for the family, and it made her sister happy. If Prim wanted to talk to the goat, Katniss wasn't going to stop her.

 

After storing the game and greens she’d brought home, Katniss washed up, scrubbing her hands and face to make sure that all traces of the forest had been cleared away from her skin.

 

Once the goat had been milked, and the day's catch cleaned and stored, Katniss and Prim headed out to the Meadow.

 

Most merchant children spent their summer break working in their families' businesses, learning the trade that would become their livelihood once they grew up. But Seam children had no such worries. Their parents usually worked in the mines. There was no family business to pass down generations, and children had to age out of the reapings before they were allowed to begin their training as miners.

 

It was always strange to think that, for a few weeks in summer, you were better off being Seam.

 

Upon reaching the Meadow, Katniss found a pleasant spot under a maple tree and sat down under its shade.

 

As usual, Prim followed her sister, at first.

 

Unlike Katniss, the youngest Everdeen was cheerful and outgoing. It never took long for her to find Penny among the other children and to make her way towards her friend.

 

Katniss didn’t mind being left alone. She’d always been a bit of a loner and, other than Prim, she only enjoyed the company of two people --none of which were available to sit by her side on these warm summer days.

 

Besides, her head hadn’t stopped spinning since she’d seen the Tribute Parade.

 

She had spent most of her time thinking and worrying about things which were completely out of her control. She was exhausted and grateful for the chance to sit down and mull things over.

 

Her mind flew back to Gale, and she wondered how he was doing.

 

Did his days feel as long as she imagined? Or was he so busy with his training that time flew by undetected?

 

She hoped for the second.

 

The thought of Gale being trapped underground every day filled her heart with sorrow. It was a cruel and unbearable notion that riddled her with anxiety and invariably led her to consider her own situation.

 

What would she do when her time came, she wondered. Would she have to follow in her father's footsteps? Would she end up spending her days inside the dark tunnels that smelled of death? Or would she manage to find some alternate solution that would keep her above ground?

 

She dreaded the mines. But she hadn't come up with a way to avoid them yet. And, lately, she had been too busy thinking about the Games.

 

And about Peeta.

 

He was never far from her thoughts. It was almost as if he’d been injected into her system and she couldn't rid herself of his presence.

 

The thought of him, all the way away in the Capitol, filled her with a kind of sadness she couldn't quite explain. It was like an oppressive loneliness that weighed down her soul and left her breathless.

 

Everywhere she went, she heard people talking about the tributes of District 12 and their performance during the parade.

 

The vendors in the Hob talked about Tessa's poise and bright smile.

 

The girls in the Meadow giggled and whispered excitedly as they recalled Peeta's strong arms and piercing blue eyes.

 

No one seemed capable of keeping their opinions to themselves and, as days went by, Katniss grew increasingly restless.

  

The mandatory nightly broadcasts she watched were no help. They showed the same reports over and over.  But she kept watching, because the few glimpses she got of him every now and then, were the only thing which eased her sense of hopelessness.

 

Most relevant information regarding tributes and their training was deemed classified. So, Capitol reporters were forced to spend their days speculating and trying to guess what the tributes, and their mentors, were planning on doing once the Games began.

 

It was like an endless loop of misinformation and gossip that made her nauseous and jittery at the same time.

 

For the first time in years, the tributes from District 12 had captured everyone's attention. Apparently, their fiery entrance during the Tribute Parade had created quite a stir among the Capitolites. And broadcasters just couldn’t get enough of the couple that had “lit up everyone’s enthusiasm for this year’s Game.”

 

Every single expert wondered whether the pair from the mining district would be able to achieve anything inside the arena.

 

Most of them didn’t see Tessa as a contender, which was understandable --given the fact that she was a Seam girl like many others. Small, weak and underfed. But most of them seemed to think Peeta might be able to wiggle his way into the final five.

 

What really had them in a tizzy, though, was the way the two tributes interacted with each other inside the training center. The images the newscasters had managed to secure, showed the district partners wearing matching outfits, sharing a table at the cafeteria, and using most learning stations at the same time.

 

Alliances between the career districts were the norm, but no expert could recall a union, formed outside the arena, between tributes who didn’t belong to Districts 1, 2 or 4.

 

Were they planning on staying together once the Game began, the reporters wondered? Was there a previous connection between them? Were they friends? Was there more to Tessa than met the eye? Did she have any hidden skills or talents that made her more valuable than she seemed?

 

They would go on and on, filling the airwaves with their endless blather; seemingly intent on spreading doubt and promoting speculation. It was a blatant attempt to peak their viewers’ curiosity and to fuel sponsors’ greed. Just another part of their game.

 

Night after night, Katniss listened.

 

Anxiety always seemed to get the best of her during these transmissions. She would sit on the couch and fidget, continually tapping her foot against the floor as she played with the end of her braid. Her mind racing as she tried to answer the broadcasters’ questions.

 

She still thought Tessa and Peeta weren’t friends, but she was definitely intrigued by District 12’s strategy. She couldn't understand why they were so intent on presenting a united front.

 

Most days ended with Katniss feeling rattled and frustrated. The lack of answers tormented her all through the night, keeping her awake as she tossed and turned until the early hours of the morning. Eventually, her body would give in to exhaustion, forcing her to sleep for a few hours.

 

But, soon enough, the old alarm clock by her bedside would rattle and announce the new day.

 

It was time to start all over again.

  

* * *

 

Katniss was making her way back to the fence one morning when she ran into a strawberry bush. Red, fat, juicy fruit hung from its branches. She smiled, knowing the mayor would be satisfied.

 

She went back into the district and made her rounds. It was a hot day, she was tired and thirsty, but she knew she had to make one last stop before going home.

 

Her tired legs reached the back door to the mayor's house. She knocked. A few moments later, the door opened, and Katniss was greeted by Madge's friendly smile.

 

"Well, hello, Miss Everdeen," Madge greeted. “Pray tell, what brings you to this side of the world?"

 

Katniss smiled softly at her friend’s formal greeting. “Hello to you too, Miss Undersee. I was hoping I could interest you in some of my wares."

 

Madge chuckled, keeping up the charade. "Oh, and what would those wares be?" she asked batting her blonde eyelashes.

 

"Only the freshest, sweetest, reddest, most delicious strawberries you'll ever taste!" Katniss enthused as she extracted one of the berries from her bag with an elaborate flourish.

 

Madge laughed. "Wow! That’s a good-looking strawberry!"

 

"I told you! Only the best of the best!" Katniss arched her eyebrows in an exaggerated gesture. "So, how many would you like?"

 

"As many as you've got!" Madge declared, her eyes shining with mirth. Sobering up, she added. "You might have to wait for a bit, though. I need to get money from my dad, and he's kind of busy. Is that alright?"

 

"Sure, no problem. I can wait.” Katniss smiled.

 

"Good, come on in. Would you like some water? It's scorching outside!"

 

"Yeah, thanks."

 

"Come, sit here." Madge gestured to one of the chairs that stood by the kitchen table.

 

Katniss pulled out the chair her friend had offered and sat down while Madge grabbed two glasses from a cabinet and pulled a pitcher from the large fridge that stood in the corner of the room.

 

Madge filled two glasses with ice-cold water, handed one of them to her visitor, and sat down.

 

Katniss took a long pull from her glass and smiled as the cold liquid slid past her throat; she was parched.

 

A couple of minutes went by; the murmur of the mayor's voice traveled all the way down from his office. It was a weird feeling Katniss thought, hearing such a deep murmur inside a home.

 

Madge took a sip of her glass and cleared her throat. "So, what have you been up to?" she inquired.

 

"Um, you know... the usual," Katniss pointed her chin towards the hunting bag she had dropped on top of the table. She didn't want to mention her illegal activities inside the mayor's house. After a small pause, she added, “helping out around the house, keeping an eye on Prim, watching the Games...  You?"

 

"The same I guess. Yeah."

 

Katniss nodded and took a few sips from her glass.

 

"So... how about that tribute parade, huh?" Madge prompted.

 

Katniss's eyes widened in surprise. She was dying to discuss the Games with Madge, but she’d never taken her friend for a Games enthusiast. She couldn't remember ever discussing the topic with her, and she had been apprehensive about bringing it up.

 

Clearly, she shouldn’t have fretted; Madge seemed just as eager as everyone else to talk about the recent developments in the Capitol.

 

_Even the most judicious of people are turning into avid followers this year._

 

“Yeah, that burning chariot was…” Katniss searched her mind trying to find the right adjective for what she’d seen on the screen. “something,” she finished lamely. Her cheeks grew warm. Why was she so bad at chitchat?

 

“Peeta and Tessa looked incredible, didn't they?” Madge added, clearly unfazed by her friend’s lack of conversational skills.

 

Katniss nodded. “Tessa looked like a mine fairy bursting out of a rock cocooned by fire.”

 

“Yeah!”

 

Katniss wiped the beads of condensation that had gathered on her glass. She’d never been one to gossip. She didn't know how to talk about superficial things or to inquire about things that didn't seem relevant but, for the last few days, her mind had kept going back to Madge and her pin.

 

As she sat across the table from her friend, she realized she had no choice. She was riddled with questions, and Madge was the only one who could answer them.

 

She sighed and ignored the queasiness she felt as she asked, “Madge… that thing… on Peeta’s lapel… was that the pin you were wearing the other day?”

 

Madge nodded. “It’s a Mockingjay.” A flash of sadness crossed Madge’s blue eyes. She cleared her throat and added, “It's a family heirloom.”

 

“A family heirloom?”

 

“Mm-hmm. It’s been in the family for a couple of generations.” Madge brought her glass to her lips. After taking a drink, she put the glass back on the table and sighed.

 

Katniss waited.

 

Seconds trickled.

 

It didn't look like Madge was going to say more, but Katniss still didn't have the information she craved. So, as awkward as it was, she decided to prod her friend a little bit more. “And…why would you give it to him?”

 

“Because,” Madge answered, the word falling from her lips like it was an explanation.

 

Katniss scowled. Was her friend being cryptic on purpose?

 

The blond girl took another sip of water and looked at the huntress. A soft smile had returned to her lips. A moment later her blue eyes widened, realization quickly setting in. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she apologized, “I thought you knew! Peeta’s my cousin.”

 

“Your cousin?” Katniss gawked in surprise.

 

Madge nodded, barely suppressing the lighthearted chuckle that tried to escape her lips.

 

Katniss’s blush deepened. She took a big gulp of icy water to distract herself from the fact that her face felt like it was on fire.

 

 _How did I not know this_ , she berated herself. _I spend every lunch break with this girl. I should be aware of who she’s related to._

 

“Yeah. Well, we’re not related by blood,” Madge added, “His dad’s sister is married to my Uncle Jared, my mom’s brother.

 

“Uncle Jared and Aunt Lorelei never had any children. I’ve always spent a lot of time with them, so have Peeta and his brothers,” Madge took a small sip from her glass. She pressed her lips together as she seemed to consider something. After a moment, she added, “The pin belonged to my mom’s sister, Maysilee.”

 

Katniss knew who Madge’s uncle was, he owned the only sweet shop in the district. She had traded with him once or twice, but Maysilee… She’d never heard that name before. She thought it sounded joyful and gentle. It reminded her of the peaceful lake that glistened invitingly on the far side of the woods 

 

She took another sip of water as she wondered whether she should ask her friend about her aunt.

 

Madge beat her to it. “My mother gave it to me when I turned 15, and I gave it to Peeta... because she was a tribute too.”

 

“Who was a tribute?”

 

“Maysilee.”

 

“What!” Katniss exclaimed, sputtering the water from the last sip she’d taken all over herself.

 

Madge chuckled softly, evidently amused by her friend's antics.

 

Katniss wiped her face dry with the back of her hand.

 

“The year Haymitch Abernathy won,” Madge explained, “She made it to the final five, you know?”

 

Katniss’s eyes were wide as saucers. Up until the last reaping, she hadn’t even heard of a merchant being reaped --further proof that she hadn’t been paying attention during her history classes-- but, a tribute from District 12 making it to the final five, that was something else entirely! She was pretty sure only two other people had managed to do that.

 

She was hoping there’d be a third one this year.

 

Katniss shook her head and focused once more on what her friend was saying.

 

“My mother told me once that Maysilee was one of the reasons why we have a victor in District 12. According to her, Haymitch Abernathy wouldn't have won without her.”

 

“Did he--," A thick lump settled on Katniss's throat.

 

“Kill her?” Madge finished for her.

 

Katniss nodded.

 

“No. He just couldn't save her,” Madge sighed. “That's what my mother says, anyway.”

 

The blond girl went silent. She lowered her eyes and began to play with a droplet which had escaped her glass and fallen on the wooden table.

 

Katniss stared at her friend in silence. Her muscles relaxed, and her heart slowed down. For the first time in days, she felt at peace.

 

* * *

 

Katniss went back to her house after her visit with Madge.

 

On her way home, she thought about the things she had left in her hunting bag and the few coins rattling in her pocket.

 

She smiled. It had been a good day.

 

Her feet took her to the Seam, but her thoughts stayed with the mayor's daughter. Madge had answered the questions which had plagued her for days, but the story about her family intrigued her.

 

She felt like she was looking at a puzzle and she didn't have enough pieces to assemble it.

 

How was it possible that two tributes had been selected from the same merchant family? What were the odds of that happening? Was it a coincidence, or was it something else, like punishment or retribution for something? Had Mayor Undersee upset the Capitol somehow?

 

Katniss shook her head and chuckled to herself. She was starting to sound like Gale. He was always going on about how the reapings were rigged to make sure the “right” people were chosen.

 

For the most part, he just meant that tesserae entries were the government’s way of ensuring that those who had less, and might become troublesome, ended up in an arena. According to him, merchants who didn't need the help of the government to survive were less likely to complain about the way things were being run.

 

“Hell, they're all thrilled with the way things are! Their homes are warm, and their bellies are full. They're as happy as can be!” he’d say, clapping his hands loudly for emphasis.

 

She'd never paid much attention to him. She honestly hadn't seen the point of getting all riled up over something you couldn't change. But now, she wondered if he might've been on to something, after all.

 

Katniss sighed in frustration. Her theories didn't make any sense, anyway.

 

Madge and Peeta didn't even share a last name. If the government wanted to punish the mayor, they would have reaped his daughter, not his nephew.

 

The truth was that Gale’s ramblings didn't matter, and her wild theories didn't matter either. What mattered was that Maysilee had been shipped to the Capitol, and she hadn't come back.

 

What mattered was that Peeta was following her path.

 

Katniss desperately hoped his trip into the arena had a different outcome. She hoped that, for once, the odds would be in this family’s favor.

 

 


	4. The Interview

 

Katniss was back on the Town Square. A whole week had gone by since the last time she’d been there. The façade of the Justice Building had, once again, been covered with large screens.

 

The Games were scheduled to begin the next day. They would be projected onto the wall of the public square every day while they lasted.

 

Katniss crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. It had been a long week, filled with physical activity, anxiety, and not enough sleep.

 

Next to her, Gale talked to Rory and Prim. The "hatchlings," as Gale called them, had decided they wanted to watch the interviews with their friends.

 

Gale was trying to act like it bothered him that they didn’t wish to spend any time with their older siblings, but he wasn’t a good enough actor. Everyone knew he didn’t really mind.

 

Eventually, Prim addressed her sister. “So, is it ok, Katniss? We’re just going to be watching from over there,” she said, pointing towards the left side of the building.

 

Katniss smiled. “Sure, Little Duck. It’s ok. I’ll be here if you need anything, alright?”

 

Prim flashed a toothy smile and hugged her sister. “I’ll see you later!” she said, pulling away. “Come on Rory, let’s go!”

 

With a nod, Rory followed Prim as she made her way through the crowd which was quickly gathering around them.

 

The Town Square was fuller than Katniss had ever seen it. It made sense; the summer heat drove everyone outside, and the big screens were much better than most people’s TVs.

 

District 12’s performance during the Tribute Parade, and the announcement of the final scores the previous night, had also contributed to the large turnout.

 

After spending the better part of a week speculating and coming up with wild theories, the Capitol newscasters had finally been authorized to deliver some accurate information.

 

The final scores were supposed to reflect a tribute’s overall skills. Sponsors usually used them as guidelines to determine whether a tribute should be sponsored or not. Most people didn’t want to waste their money on someone who wasn’t likely to win; unless they were playing to back a long shot, but most people preferred to bet on a sure thing.

 

Tributes from District 12 were never considered a sure thing.

 

Most tributes from the mining district were dangerously malnourished and had no fighting or survival skills. A sad fact which turned them into easy kills once the Games began. They usually didn’t survive more than a few hours inside the arena.

 

To add insult to injury, the only living victor the district had, one Haymitch Abernathy, was also a consummate drunk. Which meant tributes had little to no guidance when it came to planning strategies or learning how to manage their assets inside the arena.

 

Just like everything else so far, the final scores were a complete surprise this time around.

 

Tessa’s score hadn’t been very high. But still, a five out of twelve was far better than the two or three most Seam children usually got.

 

According to some of the conversations Katniss had overheard during her visits to the Meadow, Tessa was a fast runner.

 

Katniss wondered whether that had been considered in Tessa's evaluation. Was that a good enough reason to give her one of the highest scores in the history of her district? She didn't know.

 

But, while Tessa's score had given way to some speculation, what had truly turned everyone's heads around, had been Peeta’s score. He’d gotten an eight. An eight!

 

Claudius Templesmith and his team of experts were hardly able to control their enthusiasm as they tried to guess what the baker’s son might have done to warrant such a high score.

 

For once, Katniss didn’t need to guess or speculate. Unlike the Capitol’s so-called “experts,” she knew what Peeta’s skills were.

 

He was strong. She had seen him around the market, hauling heavy bags of flour over his shoulder like they weighed nothing, more than once.

 

And he was a good wrestler. A great one even! She still remembered how he’d managed to beat everyone in their school’s wrestling tournament. _Well, everyone except for his brother._

 

The game makers had probably taken this into account. Besides, Peeta might have even developed some new skills during his training sessions. Weren’t newscasters constantly talking about all the opportunities tributes had to learn while they were in the training center?

 

Katniss had spent all week worrying but, as soon as she'd seen Peeta's face flashing on the TV screen with a bright large "eight" covering his sweet smile, she'd felt that warm, fuzzy feeling she recognized as hope taking root in her once again.

 

That night she’d slept without interruptions for the first time since the reaping.

 

The lights were dimmed around the square.

 

After a short beep, Caesar Flickerman’s bright smile flashed on the screen.

 

“Oh, wow! He’s blue this year!” Gale sniggered.

 

“Well, at least he doesn’t look like he’s dripping blood.” Katniss’s stomach churned unpleasantly at the memory of the aging anchor’s outfit choice for the previous year’s Games.

 

Caesar’s show followed the same format every year. He always began the broadcast with, what he believed, were witty remarks. Katniss often wondered whether people in the Capitol laughed at his jokes for real. She didn’t think that they were all that funny.

 

After a few minutes of lighthearted banter with the audience, Caesar asked the tributes to join him on the stage. Each tribute had three minutes to make a lasting impression on any potential sponsors.

 

According to the broadcasters, doing well in the interview was almost as important as getting a good score at the training center. A number was faceless and impersonal, but the interviews provided tributes with an opportunity to appeal to their audiences face to face. Tributes who were charming or attractive usually landed supporters, even when they lacked other skills.

 

The female tribute from District 1 was the first to join Caesar.

 

“Baba boom!” Gale blurted out as the blond, curvaceous girl sauntered onto the stage. “She’s not leaving much to the imagination, is she?”

 

Katniss felt her cheeks redden. Nudity and sex were common enough during the Games. Most people were used to watching half-naked bodies prancing around their television set, but she wasn't like most people. She couldn't help it if all that exposed skin made her uncomfortable. She shrugged in a vain attempt to hide her discomfort.

 

Gale chuckled. “You're such a prude,” he declared.

 

“I’m not a prude,” Katniss grumbled.

 

Gale raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I have no problems with who you are. Besides, I don't think nudity fits into your lifestyle.”

 

Katniss smirked. Prancing through the forest wearing nothing didn't seem very appealing. It probably wasn't healthy to expose your skin to all those bushes and brambles, anyway. “That's right, it doesn't,” she accepted, satisfied with her friend's response.

 

The girl, her name was Glimmer, spent her interview pouting suggestively and batting her eyelashes at Caesar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the anchor was probably old enough to be her grandfather.

 

Her three minutes were almost up when Katniss spoke again. “She's just using her body to distract us from the fact that she's a trained killer, you know?”

 

Gale nodded. “I know.”

 

One by one all the tributes walked onto the stage.

 

What was commonly known as the “career pack” brought no surprises. They were arrogant and bloodthirsty, all too eager for the Games to begin.

 

The male tribute from District 2 was the tallest and strongest of the bunch. His steely blue eyes and arrogant smirk made Katniss want to throw up.

 

His district partner, a dark-haired beauty called Clove, oozed confidence and had a mean streak that put his muscles to shame. Whatever her secret skills were, she seemed to think the victory was well within her reach.

 

The girl from District 5 wore a dark green dress which contrasted dramatically with her red hair and pale skin. She sat very still and paid close attention to everything Caesar said.

 

“Do you still think she's smart?” Katniss asked Gale in a hushed voice once the interview was over.

 

He nodded. “Yeah. I think she's very observant. She didn't get a high score, though. And she's not strong, so I'm guessing she's going to find a hiding place and keep tabs on everyone from there.”

 

Katniss agreed, that sounded like a sound strategy for the fox-faced girl.

 

Tributes came and went. They walked towards Caesar. They sat down. They answered his questions. They waited for their time to run out. They disappeared backstage.

 

Katniss almost choked when Caesar introduced Rue, the small girl from District 11.

 

The young tribute looked like a butterfly skipping onto the stage in a blue gossamer dress adorned with wings.

 

Katniss watched entranced as the twelve-year-old talked to the interviewer. She was small, but she stood her ground. There was a quiet strength about her.

 

When Caesar asked her about her score, she looked straight into the camera and said, “I’m very hard to catch. And, if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don’t count me out.”

 

Katniss couldn't help the smile that curved her lips when she heard the statement. Who would have thought of such a small, fragile being challenging the all mighty careers?

 

They were all muscles, but Rue’s spirit was stronger than theirs. She had known hardship and, unlike the careers who came from richer districts and had never wanted for anything, she’d spent all her life fighting to survive.

 

Sadly, Katniss knew Rue would need much more than a resilient spirit if she ever came face to face with her competitors.

 

The small smile fell quickly from Katniss's lips, and she turned to face the ground. She sighed, feeling hopeless all of a sudden.

 

Gale’s hand on her shoulder comforted her. He squeezed once, gently. “She's not Prim,” he whispered.

 

“I know. But still–”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

The sound of Gale gasping a moment later brought her eyes back to the screen.

 

The massive frame of Rue’s district partner covered the wall in front of her, he was imposing, standing well above Caesar’s height.

 

His lips were set in a straight line. He refused to sit on the chair Caesar offered, and he kept his arms crossed in front of him as he answered every question with one monosyllable or less.

 

Katniss had never seen Caesar work so hard to get so little out of a tribute.

 

For the second time that night, she found herself admiring District Eleven’s strength and dignity.

 

“Last, but not least,” Caesar intoned, “it's time to welcome the tributes from District 12.”

 

The audience in the studio clapped enthusiastically.

 

Back in District 12, the crowd stood still. Every pair of eyes was glued to the screen.

 

“Miss Tessa Monroe, please come up onto the stage!”

 

Tessa came into view. Surprised gasps and sounds of admiration filled the square.

 

Tessa's red dress was covered with thousands of shimmering beads which reflected the lights surrounding Caesar's stage. It made her look like the flame of a candle, flickering softly with every step she took.

 

The crowd settled down and listened intently while Caesar interviewed the shimmering girl.

 

Tessa’s voice was soft and pleasant. She spoke with the melodic intonation that was typical of the Seam, and she smiled pleasantly as she described the things she liked about the Capitol.

 

Her eyes grew wide as she recalled her favorite food; something she called “hot chocolate.”

 

The Capitol audience clapped in agreement.

 

With a sweet smile, Tessa turned to look at her hands, daintily entwined on her lap.  A soft blush crept up her cheeks as she added, “and my other favorite thing about the Capitol has been meeting Cinna.”

 

“Cinna? Your stylist?” Caesar questioned, clearly intrigued by the girl’s answer. “And, why is that Tessa?” he prodded.

 

“Well, just look at the beautiful gown he made for me!” she gushed.

 

The audience clapped their appreciation.

 

Tessa smiled some more and talked about how she’d always been interested in clothes and fashion. Her eyes turned sad when she mentioned her mother, who was one of the seamstresses that worked for the mines in District Twelve.

 

Everyone in District 12 knew the job consisted mostly of sewing and repairing the miner’s tattered work clothes, but the way Tessa talked about it made it sound like the miners were the best-dressed workers in all of Panem.

 

The audience in the Capitol seemed to hang on Tessa's every word, evidently entranced by the beautiful girl who shone. She was like a pure gem which had been extracted from the deepest recesses of a dark coal mine.

 

Tessa’s time was almost up, so Caesar made one last request.

 

“Could you twirl before you leave?” he asked. “I think the audience would like to see the beautiful dress you’re wearing in all of its glory.”

 

Tessa stood up.  A lovely smile danced on her lips as she gracefully twirled in place.

 

All of Panem gasped as the hem of Tessa's dress came to life, glowing like a bonfire around her calves.

 

In the Capitol, the crowd went mad. People clapped and yelled enthusiastically as Tessa seemed to be consumed by fire.

 

"Tessa Monroe, everyone!" Caesar beamed. "Our beautiful diamond in the rough. Best of luck to you, Miss Monroe! I hope we'll meet again."

 

The crowd had barely settled down after Tessa's interview when Caesar announced. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the last tribute of the night. Please welcome, all the way from District 12, Mr. Peeta Mellark!”

 

A new round of applause exploded in the studio.

 

Peeta appeared on the screen. His steps resounded loudly on the stage and echoed through speakers all over Panem.

 

Peeta smiled brightly as he extended his hand for the anchor to shake.

 

Katniss's mouth went dry at the sight of him. He was wearing a black suit which had been tailored to hug his broad shoulders perfectly.

 

The red and gold accents on his lapel matched the flames on Tessa's dress, making Madge’s gold pin look like a bird enveloped by fire. The carefully styled waves on his ashy blond hair reflected the lights which surrounded him, making him glow.

 

He couldn't have been more different than Tessa and still, looking at their outfits, there was no doubt they were meant to be seen as a pair. Their stylists had turned them into a team once more.

 

Katniss's hands began to sweat as the seasoned presenter asked Peeta about his time in the Capitol.

 

It was a pretty standard question, one that Caesar had used more than once throughout the night, and one which tributes often answered by mentioning their favorite food or by talking about some of the Capitol's most famous sights. The City Circle, the president's mansion, and the central justice building were customarily mentioned.

 

In truth, most tributes were too worried or nervous to come up with any new ideas.

 

Panem was about to discover that Peeta Mellark wasn't like most tributes.

 

Smiling directly at the camera, Peeta answered Caesar’s question with a fun anecdote about him slipping in the shower and spraying rose-scented soap all over himself while he tried to keep from falling.

 

Katniss had never heard his voice so clearly before. It was deep and modulated. It washed over her like a balm, soothing her frayed nerves and calming her.

 

Back on the stage, Caesar was beside himself. He couldn't stop laughing, and he happily obliged when Peeta asked if he could take a whiff and tell him what he smelled like.

 

The audience went mad, clapping, laughing, and whistling even as they encouraged the tribute to share more of his stories.

 

Over the next minute, Peeta spoke practically uninterrupted.

 

Caesar and the rest of Panem listened enraptured as the baker’s son gave a rundown of all of his competitors and compared them to the bread from their home districts.

 

Katniss hung to his every word.

 

Peeta's voice was thick and sweet, almost like warm honey dripping from his lips. It made her head fuzzy and her knees weak. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to store it in her memory.

 

Peeta’s time had almost run out when Caesar asked his last question. “So tell me, Peeta, a handsome, charming lad like you… You must have a girl back home, right?” The anchor’s eyes twinkled, full of mischief.

 

For a second Peeta’s face grew serious, his blue eyes clouded over and he pulled them away from the camera’s eye.

 

Katniss held her breath. Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably making her nauseous, but she couldn't pry her eyes away from the screen.

 

Peeta’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he smiled once more. His smile, sweet with just a hint of shyness, sent an unexpected rush of warmth through Katniss’s body.

 

Peeta shook his head a few times as he finally answered. “No, there’s no one.”

 

Katniss sighed.

 

“Well, I for one find that very hard to believe!” Caesar declared.

 

“Let me ask you something, Caesar,” Peeta countered. “Have you ever worked in a bakery?”

 

“Well, no. I can't say that I have. What is it like?”

 

“It’s a lot of work!” Peeta exclaimed with a smile so bright one might think he was talking about relaxing in front of the fire and not toiling in front of an oven.

 

Caesar chuckled. “So, what you're saying is that you haven't had any time for girls?”

 

“That's right.”

 

Caesar tapped his chin with his index finger and narrowed his eyes as he pretended to give Peeta's situation some serious thought. A couple of seconds later he declared. “Well, my boy, I think I have a solution for your predicament.”

 

“You do?” Peeta’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

“Yes! Listen, this is what you do…” Caesar leaned forward as if he was about to share a secret with his friend, and not about to divulge some personal advice on national television. “You win this thing and go back!" he proclaimed, slapping Peeta's knee in the process. "You’ll have all the free time in the world then!” he added.

 

“That sounds like a great plan," Peeta answered, seemingly considering the suggestion. "Thank you, Caesar.” 

 

* * *

 

Katniss held Prim’s hand as they walked back to the Seam. Gale and Rory kept them company.

 

All around them, people were talking about the show they’d just seen. Excited voices recalled the highlights of the night.

 

Glimmer’s sexy outfit, Clove’s evil glare and District 3’s twitchiness on the stage were on everyone’s lips. But, more than anything, people talked about Tessa and Peeta, their tributes.

 

Tessa’s sweetness and grace had made an impression on the district.

 

Prim giggled excitedly as she recalled the way Tessa’s hemline had caught fire. Her free hand fluttered around her as she mimicked the tribute’s movements. And even Rory, who was usually taciturn and prickly, praised Tessa's elegance and the beauty of her smile.

 

Small bouts of laughter could be heard throughout the district as people recounted Peeta’s anecdotes. Most people still couldn’t believe he had made the Capitol sound human and relatable, a place where absurd things could happen.

 

According to the oldest among the crowd, no one had ever done that before. 

 

People in the districts were taught from an early age to respect the Capitol. They were supposed to admire and obey it. Tributes and presenters talked about the most important city in the country with awe, their stories always imbued with respectful reverence. But Peeta’s comments hadn’t been respectful or reverent. He had mocked their extravagant lifestyle and had exposed their sophistication, making them sound vain and ridiculous. What was incredible was that they had loved him for it.

 

Audiences in the Capitol seemed to have fallen in love with his sweet, innocent smile and easygoing nature. They had listened and laughed and rejoiced, and for once, the people in District 12 had wholeheartedly joined them.

 

Katniss briefly wondered what the other districts were thinking. Had they connected with the baker’s son in the same way people around her had? Had the Capitol and all twelve districts laughed at the same joke?

 

The notion was somewhat unsettling. Unity between districts was practically unheard of, and it was usually mentioned to reference the dark days. That miserable period which had led to the disastrous civil war that had divided the nation, creating enough animosity between the districts to give birth to the Hunger Games.

 

Suddenly, Gale shook his head, a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. The sound caught Katniss’s attention.

 

"What's so funny?" she asked.

 

"I was just thinking how, for a second there, I thought bread boy was going to say he was in love with Tessa."

 

A cold chill ran along Katniss's spine. She scowled. "Why would you think that?" she demanded.

 

"Well, we've seen them together all week long. Old Man Abernathy seems intent on presenting them as a bundle deal. So, I figured maybe it was a strategy.  Sell a sappy story to the Capitol fools. They love that kind of thing! Forbidden, unrequited love, most Capitol shows are about that,” he finished; a smug smile perched on his lips.

 

“You watch Capitol shows?” Prim exclaimed, evidently amused by the revelation.

 

“No!” Gale denied in a tone that was suspiciously high pitched. “My mother does. And Posy, she loves that stuff!”

 

 “Uh-huh, I bet she does,” Prim sniggered.

 

“Anyway,” Katniss interrupted. As much as she liked making fun of her best friend for watching TV in his free time, she had more pressing matters on her mind. She turned to face him. “You know, Capitol TV shows notwithstanding, I think that's the dumbest theory you've ever come up with."

 

"Is that so?" Gale replied, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

 

"Yes! That romantic angle wouldn't have gotten them very far inside the arena. Or have you forgotten? Twenty-four tributes go in, but only ONE comes out,” she explained, pointing her index finger into the sky for added emphasis. “And, I don't see the gamemakers changing that particular rule anytime soon."

 

Gale huffed. "Well, you do have a point there,” he conceded. “You may be right. But, mark my words Catnip, that Mellark kid, he's a smart one. You saw what he did tonight. How he had everyone eating from the palm of his hand. I don’t know if that’s enough to win a game, but he’s definitely not going down without a fight. You can bet he has some sort of plan up his sleeve."

 

* * *

 

Katniss had been lying in bed for a while. The damp summer air hung to her body, making the thin sheets stick to her limbs.

 

She was tired, she knew she needed to rest, but her mind just wouldn’t shut down. She kept thinking about everything she’d heard that night. The tributes' interviews, the people’s comments, Gale’s theories, they all kept dancing inside her head.

 

How was she supposed to sleep when there was so much going on?

 

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on cool relaxing things. The crisp autumn breeze which filled her lungs with energy, the shimmering waters of the freshwater lake that waited for her on the far side of the woods, the shade of a maple tree by the Meadow, the soft notes of Peeta’s deep voice washing over her…

 

Her eyes snapped open. _Peeta_.

 

For maybe the thousandth time that night she wondered how he was doing. Was he getting any sleep?  Or was he lying in bed, anxiously tossing and turning as he tried to guess what kind of arena he’d be sent into?

 

She wondered whether it would it make a difference. Being inside a city in ruins was probably just as horrible as being in a desert or a forest when you were fighting for your life. Besides, they weren’t even real cities or deserts, they were stages, filled with death traps that had but one objective: to end the tribute’s lives.

 

The words from her conversation with Gale came flying back to her: _only one comes out_.

 

The thought sat uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach, making her nauseous and lightheaded.

 

All those tributes, the floozy from 1, the fox-faced girl from 5, and young Rue, the resilient butterfly from 11. They would all have to die if Peeta was to come home.

 

 _Only one comes out_.

 

Her mind kept spinning as she thought about all those people, all those wasted lives. All those dreams that would never be because someone somewhere had decided they needed to pay for other people’s crimes.

 

Suddenly, her mind stopped racing, and everything came into focus.

 

In that moment of absolute clarity, she knew those losses would be sad; each and every one of them would fill someone somewhere with sorrow. But those people and their dreams were not connected to her.

 

The notion wasn't very generous, and she wasn't particularly proud of it, but it was honest and real. And, frankly, at this point, she couldn't be too picky.

 

She hadn’t made up the rules. She hadn’t put the tributes' names inside the reaping bowl, and she wasn't responsible for any of this.

 

She didn’t owe Rue or the fox-faced girl anything.

 

She didn’t even know them!

 

But she knew Peeta. And, if only one could come out, she wasn’t going to apologize for wishing it was him.


	5. The Game (Adrenaline)

It was noon.

 

Katniss was at home, sitting on the floor. She kept her back pressed against the foot of the couch and her eyes glued to the old TV set which stood in front of her. Prim and her mother sat on the sofa behind her.

 

The sound of fanfare blared through the ancient TV's speakers. The 74th Hunger Games were about to begin.

 

A landscape shot of the arena filled the screen. At first glance, the place looked like a forest. A significant portion of the enclosure was covered with tall pines and dense bushes. The thickness of the greenery, and the glossy texture of the grass which covered vast areas of the ground were the only signs that the place had been created by men and not by nature.

 

A small section to the West was covered with long blades of grass, which were high enough to conceal a person. There weren't any trees there, and the quick overview didn't really show the kind of terrain that lay underneath the overgrown plants.

 

A general scan of the forest showed two water sources. One was near the plain, located in the center of the arena, the other was hidden away in the woods.

 

The golden structure known as the cornucopia stood at the center of the field. Crates of food, weapons, and all sorts of supplies, spilled from the edifice's mouth. 24 round platforms had been placed in a circle around the building.

 

Backpacks of different sizes and other goodies lay scattered on the grassy area which separated the platforms from the golden horn.

 

There was a short beep.

 

The platforms softly rumbled as all 24 tributes emerged, simultaneously, all around the field. The clock on top of the cornucopia began its countdown.

 

Katniss braced herself. The first minutes of the Games were usually the most violent ones. Food, weapons, and tools were hard to come by inside the arena; and tributes only had one chance to get supplies from the cornucopia before the career alliance took control of the provisions.

 

It was normal for the weakest tributes, driven by desperation and fear, to make a mad dash towards the mouth of the golden horn where they were usually greeted by the bloodthirsty careers. The gruesome spectacle which inevitably followed was commonly known as "the bloodbath."

 

Individual shots of the tributes flashed on the screen identifying them by name and district and showing their placement in the circle. According to Claudius Templesmith's commentary, the positions in the circle were chosen randomly in an attempt to even out the tributes' odds.

 

Katniss's heart began to race as soon as she saw them.

 

The tributes from 3 and 6 looked terrified.

 

Rue and the fox-faced girl threw furtive glances toward the thicker part of the woods, while Thresh, Rue's partner, kept his eyes trained on the tall grasses which covered the area of the arena that was furthest from him.

 

Districts 1 and 2 were ready to snap into action, practically salivating as they considered the riches awaiting them inside the cornucopia.  

 

The camera landed on Peeta. The girl from District 4 was standing next to him.

 

Katniss leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She didn't want to miss anything.

 

Peeta's face filled the screen. Katniss held her breath for an instant. For the first time since the reaping, he looked exactly like the boy she knew. No makeup, no flames, no extravagant clothes.

 

His hair was a bit shorter than usual, but it was styled in the old familiar way, with the same rebellious waves which fell onto his forehead and threatened to get into his eyes.

 

A sudden rush of sadness coursed through her at the sight of him. He didn't belong there. And yet, there he was, standing perfectly still as he followed the countdown on the clock.

 

His blank expression gave nothing away.

 

She wished she could reach into the TV set, grab him, and bring him back home, to the relative safety of their district. She shook her head, grateful that no one could hear her thoughts.

 

The boy from District 10 was the next to come up on the screen. He stood awkwardly on his platform. His shoulders hunched forward as he tried to keep his weight off of his foot. _His lame foot_ , Katniss reminded herself.

 

After showing the girl from District 8 and the boy from 7, the camera landed on Tessa. Nervous energy radiated from her every pore, making her practically bounce off of the balls of her feet.

 

Her furrowed brow betrayed the inner battle she was waging as her eyes kept shifting between two objects the cameras didn't show.

 

Katniss briefly wondered what Tessa's two options were.

 

The camera moved on to show the remaining tributes.

 

Eventually, the countdown ran down. Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed across the field, "Ladies and gentlemen, let the 74th Hunger Games begin!"

 

Everything turned to chaos in the seconds which followed. Tributes scrambled as they desperately tried to get their hands on whatever they could find.

 

The career alliance rushed towards the cornucopia. They had no problem reaching it.

 

In a matter of seconds, the careers had secured the most important source of supplies inside the arena. Once they had distributed the weapons, the allies turned to face their competitors. The bloodbath was about to begin.

 

The next few minutes were a mess of rushing limbs, deep grunts, and pained screams. The cameras kept switching shots as they tried to cover all of the action. But, with six careers moving around, it was impossible to keep track of everything.

 

A list of the fallen tributes' names appeared on the left side of the screen. Katniss narrowed her eyes as she read and re-read the names. They were listed by district number, but the list kept changing as tributes continued to get killed.

 

The boys from Districts 5, 7 and 8 were on the list, accompanied by the girls from 6 and 3.

 

Time ticked by.

 

The list kept growing.

 

Katniss hugged her knees to her chest, she was so tense she could hardly breathe.

 

Suddenly, Tessa appeared on the screen. She was rushing towards the backpack which was closest to her platform.

 

Katniss watched wide-eyed as Tessa went speeding across the field. She was a couple of steps away from the bag when her left foot got snagged on an overgrown root.

 

Tessa's ankle twisted with a loud crack, and she came crashing down on the wet grass.

 

Her face contorted in pain as she stood up, placing her weight on her right foot. She turned her attention back to the backpack, only to discover that the boy from District 9 had beaten her to it.

 

It only took a few seconds.

 

The boy hesitated for an instant.

 

A noiseless knife landed on his back, lodging itself between his shoulder blades. The boy fell face forward. He was dead.

 

Tessa grimaced at the sight but wasted no time dislodging the backpack from the boy's tight grip.

 

A glimmer of hope shone in Tessa's eyes as she turned towards the woods. She ran.

 

The camera's angle shifted to show Clove running towards Tessa with a new knife held securely in her hand.

 

Tessa hobbled unsteadily. Her injured ankle restrained her movements slowing her down.

 

Clove's knife went into Tessa's thigh.

 

Tessa's pained scream filled the room as she fell to the ground. With shaky hands, she desperately tried to reach the blade to pull it out.

 

It was no use.

 

In no time, Clove was upon her. With a practiced twist of her wrist, the girl from District 2 slit Tessa's throat.

 

The beautiful girl who had twirled and shone was gone.

 

Katniss shuddered as the light went out from Tessa's Seam gray eyes.

 

Tessa's name flickered on the TV screen.

 

From her place on the couch, Prim let out a soft whimper.

 

Katniss turned towards her sister. She was cuddled in her mother's embrace, her face buried in the healer's chest.

 

The bloodbath continued for a few more minutes.

 

Eventually, the fighting stopped. The list of fallen tributes had 12 names on it. Peeta's wasn't one of them.

 

Hovercrafts were sent into the arena to retrieve the bodies.

 

The lush green grass shone with freshly spilled blood.

 

* * *

 

Mandatory viewing was over. The TV screen went black, and the small room was engulfed in silence.

 

Prim's soft sobs, muffled by her mother's arms, were the only sound in the small room.

 

Katniss watched silently as Mrs. Everdeen tenderly rubbed her daughter's back and began to hum. It was an old familiar tune; the soothing melody she'd always used when she'd tried to comfort her girls.

 

Katniss couldn't remember the last time her mother had sung to her like that. But Prim was still so young and small; bundled against her mother's slight frame, it was hard to believe she was already 12.

 

Prim wriggled out of her mother's embrace and released a shaky sigh. Her tear-streaked cheeks were flushed. Clumsily, she wiped them dry and turned to face Katniss. "That could have been me," she said, shattering the silence.

 

A thick lump settled in Katniss's throat. Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them spill. She didn't want Prim to know how true her words were, how scary it was that every year she'd have more entries in the bowl and more chances of being chosen.

 

"But it wasn't," Katniss replied in a soothing tone.

 

Prim nodded, her eyes filled with fresh tears as she whispered, "It could have been you."

 

"But it wasn't," Katniss repeated, hoping she sounded more knowledgeable and convincing than she felt.

 

"But it could have, Katniss!" Prim countered, her eyes narrowing with determination. "It could have been me, and it could have been you!" she wailed. "My name was inside that reaping bowl, same as yours, same as Tessa's… same as everyone else on that horrible list," she mumbled, unable to disguise her despair.

 

Katniss's heart ached. She knew Prim was right. Even if their circumstances were bleak, they were the lucky ones. They had managed to slip by, undetected, for one more year.

 

Katniss spent her days hunting, gathering, and trading because she wanted to keep her sister safe. It wasn't just about providing food for their table, it was also about keeping Prim from registering for tesserae. She was trying to give her sister the best odds she could, even if it meant putting herself at risk. But, as hard as she tried, she couldn't shield the twelve-year-old from the realization which had just struck her. The knowledge that, even if you'd never met them, you were connected to those people on the screen. And that the tribute's lives, which had been taken so cruelly from them, could have been yours.

 

It was a realization which hit every child in Panem at some point. It usually came with their first reaping. In Katniss's case, it had happened a couple of years later, once the shadow of her father's loss and the imminent threat of starvation had retreated to the back of her mind. It was impossible not to make the connection. Sooner or later, everyone reached the same conclusion: someone else had died so that you could live.

 

Unlike her sister, Prim was catching on early.

 

Katniss shook her head, there was nothing she could say or do to make Prim feel better. This heartbreak was something she couldn't shield her from. What really mattered was that Prim was safe; she was just upset.

 

Katniss stood up and moved to sit on the couch, managing to squeeze herself into the small space between her sister and the armrest.

 

Prim reached her hand out to her, quickly entwining their fingers together.

 

Katniss began to caress the back of her sister's hand with the pad of her thumb. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with the right words to say, but none of her ideas seemed good enough. Their situation was just as helpless as Prim had painted it. There was no hiding from reality. Their names had been inside the bowl, and they could have been picked.

 

Under different circumstances, Katniss would have tried to reassure Prim by reminding her that she had the lowest amount of entries a person could have. But, after the last reaping, that fact didn't make her feel safe anymore.

 

She hadn't wanted to dwell on it, but she was scared. Peeta's reaping had been an eye-opener. A harsh reminder that every single slip of paper inside the glass bowl counted. Since there were no certainties and no guarantees she could offer, she had to settle for trying to be as truthful and honest as possible.

 

"Little Duck, look at me," she instructed, "you're here, I'm here and, right now, this is the best place we could be. Yes?"

 

Prim nodded, her blue eyes never leaving her sister's.

 

"Well," Katniss continued, "we're going to try our hardest to keep it that way. Alright?"

 

Prim's eyes narrowed, her mouth was set in a thin line. She wasn't satisfied, but she was no fool, she knew this was the best she could hope for. She nodded and closed her eyes. She was tired.

 

Katniss let out a deep, shaky sigh. She hated that she couldn't offer anything better and that all her efforts and hard work still wouldn't ensure her sister's survival. But, more than anything, she hated that her sister was no longer a child. She was old enough to be reaped and old enough to understand some of the harshest realities of the world they lived in. She would have given anything to protect Prim's innocence a bit longer, but she knew there was no going back.

 

The loud knock on the door startled them.

 

Katniss rushed to answer. Most visitors to the Everdeen household were patients looking for her mother; desperate souls searching for some sort of relief from whatever ailed them or their loved ones. Mrs. Everdeen didn't like to keep them waiting.

 

She opened the door and gasped. She hadn't expected to find Gale Hawthorne, looking winded and grimy, standing in front of her.

 

"Hey! Are you ok?" she asked as she inspected him. She'd never seen him like that before, covered in ash and soot after a long day in the mine.

 

He must have recognized the signs of worry on her face because he wasted no time reassuring her. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine," he replied. Gale took a deep breath, a smile formed on his lips as he slowly let the air out of his lungs. "I'm ok, I just ran all the way from the mines," he chuckled as he shook his head.

 

Katniss's mouth opened in surprise. "And, why would you do that?" she questioned.

 

Gale sobered up. "I saw the bloodbath." His gray eyes, so similar to hers, had suddenly turned sad. His voice was thick with concern when he asked, "How are you holding on, Catnip?"

 

"I'm all right," she said shrugging. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she admitted, "I'm worried about Prim, though. First Games are usually the hardest."

 

"Yeah," he agreed, "I know what you mean. I wonder how Rory is taking it," he mused.

 

She nodded, Rory was a smart kid. He'd probably figured out exactly the same things Prim had. Gale wasn't going to find a happy family when he got home.

 

"So, you're okay then?" he asked.

 

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Like I said, Prim's a bit shaken but, other than that, everything's fine."

 

"Good," he said nodding for emphasis. Katniss felt his eyes, burdened with worry, searching her face. “Well, at least she didn't know Tessa. In person, I mean," he added, looking straight at her.

 

Katniss frowned. Why was Gale… her eyes widened as understanding sank in. _Reaping day_.

 

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but she couldn't find the words, so she closed it once more. For the briefest of seconds, she considered explaining the situation to her friend. How hard could it be? She just had to tell him she didn't know Tessa. But that would mean revealing she knew Peeta, and how she knew him.

 

Katniss didn't like secrets and misunderstandings, but she definitely wasn't ready to share that information with Gale, maybe she'd never be.

 

 _This doesn't concern him_ , she reminded herself.

 

Katniss looked up. Gale's anxious face covered in soot reminded her that, even if she didn't owe him any explanations, Gale was still her friend and he was worried about her. She had to tell him something.

 

Opening her mouth, she forced herself to mumble, "I didn't really know her that well either."

 

"Oh?"

 

She knew Gale's reply was an invitation for her to elaborate, but she had precious little to add. Still, she couldn't just stand there and say nothing.

 

"Yeah," she confirmed, "we weren't friends or anything."

 

She knew it wasn't enough, this information in no way justified her reaction on reaping day, but it was too late. She couldn't back down now. She searched her mind, wishing there was something more she could offer. "She was nice," she added, almost as an afterthought. "She was pleasant and sweet, and everyone seemed to like her," she finished.

 

"Ok." Gale nodded. The hesitation in his tone told her he wasn't completely satisfied, but he knew she wasn't going to say anything else.

 

Relieved, Katniss made sure to keep her expression blank. Having a reputation for being surly and tight-lipped was finally paying off.

 

"Well," Gale said, finally looking away from her. "I guess I should get going then. I don't have that much time left before the next mandatory transmission begins.

 

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked. "Are you watching here, or out on the big screens?"

 

"Uh, I'm not sure. We haven't decided yet. What are you guys doing?"

 

"Oh, we're definitely going to the town square. There's no way I'm spending my Sunday trapped indoors!"

 

She nodded. She knew Gale was probably itching to be outside. It was bad enough that they couldn't go hunting while the Games were on. But spending a perfectly good Sunday stuck indoors with his mother and his siblings sounded like some kind of torture.

 

"Maybe I'll see you there," she offered.

 

"Alright. I'm off then. Hug Prim for me? I'd do it myself, but I don't think she wants to be showered in coal," he added looking at himself. A flash of sadness clouded his eyes as he inspected his appearance.

 

Katniss wished she could say something, anything to make her friend feel a little better about his circumstances. But she'd never been good with words and, besides, what could she possibly tell him that would make his life more bearable. He hated going down into the mines every day. He hated feeling trapped inside the fence. She understood how he felt, but none of her words would change his reality, so what was the point of talking about it?

 

Katniss watched as her best friend turned around and started walking away from her. He had only taken a couple of steps when she called after him.

 

"Gale! Thanks for stopping by."

 

He turned around for a moment and flashed her a fleeting smile, "Yeah, you're welcome Catnip."

 

Katniss stood silently by the door, her eyes followed her friend's tall frame until he turned around a corner and disappeared from view.

 

* * *

 

Katniss was back on her spot on the living room floor with her back pressed against the couch, and her legs stretched out in front of her. This time, Prim sat next to her with Buttercup sprawled on her lap.

 

Mrs. Everdeen sat on the armchair on the far side of the room. Her body was angled toward the TV set, but she kept her eyes trained on the pile of torn, tattered clothes she was turning into bandages.

 

There was a high-pitched sound, and the TV lit up.

 

Claudius Templesmith's heavily made-up face filled the screen. Mandatory Transmission had begun.

 

Mandatory viewing times were only enforced in the districts; where people had to stop production to watch their children die on their screens. In the Capitol, the only sector that didn't participate in the Games, residents were free to watch at their own convenience. The nightly recaps were, by far, the most popular show among the country's sophisticated elite.

 

Claudius Templesmith greeted his audience and introduced a short clip with what he called, "the highlights of the day."

 

Katniss and Prim watched in silence as the horrible images from the bloodbath danced in front of their eyes once more.

 

Unlike the morning screening, the evening presentation was heavily edited. People all over Panem were forced to relive their tributes' deaths presented in slow motion, or sometimes still frame, as expert commentators babbled incessantly about the impressive skills displayed by the career alliance.

 

Once the footage from the bloodbath had been exhausted, Templesmith moved on to what he called "activity updates inside the arena."

 

The images on screen jumped from tribute to tribute, showing what each one of them was up to.

 

In the few hours since the bloodbath, the career alliance had completely taken over the cornucopia and its supplies. They had made a pile of food and weapons, and they had gotten the tribute from District 3 to remove the explosives from the launch platforms and to spread them around the precious loot, turning the area into a minefield.

 

The massive boy from District 11 was hiding in the area covered by the tall grasses. A list displayed on the left side of the screen showed the supplies he had managed to acquire during the bloodbath.

 

Katniss wrinkled her nose and wondered how a few nuts, some crackers, an empty water bottle, a short serrated knife and a large tarpaulin would help him in that place.

 

The fox-like girl from District 5 was up next. She had found a safe hiding place under some thick shrubs. She wasn't far from the cornucopia and was keeping a watchful eye on the careers and all their activities.

 

According to Claudius Templesmith, she had already figured out the trick with the explosives, and wouldn't have any difficulty reaching the food and supplies whenever the pile was left unattended.

 

New shots filled the screen. The sun had begun to set in the arena, and the tributes were getting ready for the night.

 

Prim gasped loudly as the next tribute showed up on screen. Rue, the small girl from District 11, was setting up a nest of sorts on the highest branches of a solid birch.

 

"How did she get there?" Prim wondered.

 

Katniss smiled. The answer seemed so obvious to her she couldn't believe it hadn't crossed her sister's mind. "She climbed," she said.

 

Prim's eyes widened. Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked, "Can you climb that high?"

 

"No, Little Duck," Katniss assured her. "I'm a good climber, but I've never tried to go that high. I've never really needed to."

 

The sisters watched in silence while the young girl wrapped the straps of her small backpack around her legs, securing them to the branch she was sitting on.

 

"Why is she tying herself to the tree?" Prim asked.

 

"'Cause she's smart. She's making sure she won't fall down if she falls asleep."

 

Prim nodded as she considered her sister's words. A moment later she added, "That's what she must have meant during her interview... when she said they had to catch her first.”

 

"Probably," Katniss agreed. Her chest tightened. The girl seemed perfectly capable of staying out of harm's way, but she wouldn't be able to do much if she ever ran into the career pack.

 

The girl from District 8 had set up camp in a clearing in the middle of the wooded area and was gathering kindling to light a fire.

 

Katniss questioned the soundness of her plan. The temperature would probably drop during the night, but lighting a fire in the dark would no doubt attract all sorts of predators.

 

Peeta's name flashed on the screen. He was next. Katniss leaned forward. She folded her legs against her chest and hugged them tightly.

 

Claudius Templesmith recounted everything Peeta had done since the Game had begun. According to the commentator, the baker's son had run into the woods as soon as the countdown had stopped. He hadn't bothered to join in the fight at the cornucopia, but he had managed to snatch a backpack as he fled to safety.

 

A new list popped on the screen describing the contents of Peeta's backpack.

 

Katniss held her breath as she tried to retain all the information. Peeta's bag contained an empty water bottle, some iodine drops, a small switchblade, a box of wooden matches, a packet of nuts, some dried fruits, a bag of dried beef strips, a thin square of fabric which reflected body heat, and a first aid kit.

 

She smiled. It wasn't much, but it was one of the best backpacks she'd seen so far. If Peeta rationed his supplies wisely and managed to catch or gather some food, he might get by.

 

Her attention went back to Claudius's narration. He was explaining how Peeta had kept running for a while, dodging trees and shrubs along the way. He hadn't stopped until he'd reached the water source which was furthest from the cornucopia and the careers.

 

After a quick inspection of the area, he'd discovered a collection of large rocks that formed small cave-like structures, and he'd decided to set up camp inside one of them.

 

The camera focused on Peeta and his lakeside camp.

 

The sun was setting on the edge of the arena. Dark reds, bursts of purple and different shades of orange painted the sky.

 

The District 12 tribute sat on a rock next to the water's edge as he took small sips from his water bottle. His blue eyes reflected the colors of the sky as he calmly observed every detail of the world around him.

 

Katniss's eyes scanned the screen. She drank in every detail of Peeta's face and body, eagerly trying to make an inventory of every scratch, tear and bruise she could find on him. Luckily, there wasn't much damage to be found. Other than a few grazes on his hands and a small, superficial cut on his cheek he looked ok.

 

Her speeding heart settled as she watched him. He was more like an explorer, who had been taking a leisurely stroll in the woods, than a potential victim of the career's lust for blood.

 

His peaceful demeanor shocked her, and she worried that he wasn't being careful enough. Sitting out in the open like that, while the careers were out and about, didn't seem like a good idea. But one look at the general chart, which was on constant display in a screen corner, put her mind at ease. The closest tribute was miles away.

 

Peeta took a deep breath. He laid down on the ground, locking his hands under his head, and closed his eyes. The last pale rays of sun touched his cheeks, and he smiled.

 

The camera was so close to him that Katniss could see the constellation of freckles which covered his nose. She wondered what it would be like to run her fingers over them. Would his skin feel warm to the touch? Would his cheeks be soft, like a boy's, or scratchy, like her father's had been?

 

She held her breath for an instant, trying to hang on to the sudden warmth traveling through her veins.

 

Claudius Templesmith's face appeared on the screen, and Katniss winced at the sudden intrusion of the garish anchor into her home.

 

"As you can see, the sun has set inside the arena," the presenter announced. "It's time to update our tributes. I'm sure they're all dying to know who's still standing," he added, laughing proudly at his witty remark.

 

Katniss turned to look at Prim. The young girl looked like she was about to burst into tears.

 

"Come here, Little Duck," Katniss instructed, opening her arms to her sister.

 

Without hesitation, Prim slid into her sister's embrace.

 

One by one, the official pictures of the dead tributes flashed on the screen. Most images were followed by footage of the remaining tributes' reactions.

 

The careers howled and hit their chests, acting like the arrogant predators they were. But there were others, like the girl from 5 or the boy from 10, who looked remorseful and even sad when they saw their partners' images projected onto the night sky.

 

Tessa's picture was the last one.

 

Katniss felt Prim tensing in her arms at the sight of the grey-eyed girl.

 

The camera focused on Peeta once more. He was standing by his cave's entrance, his eyes fixed on the image reflected above him. Suddenly, he lifted his left hand, touched his three middle fingers to his lips and held them out to the sky towards Tessa's reflection.

 

"Is that… Mom, is that the funeral salute?" Prim asked.

 

"Yes, Prim," Mrs. Everdeen's voice sounded hollow and broken. Even after all those years, the thought of the ancient salute to the dead overwhelmed her. "He's saying goodbye," she added. "He's paying his respects to Tessa."

 

Tears welled in Katniss's eyes. She’d been a scared 11-year old girl the last time she’d seen the funeral salute, and she still remembered how lonely she'd felt. The room full of miners, who held their fingers out as they paid their last respects to her father and the other victims of that horrible explosion, hadn't brought her any comfort.

 

Her father was gone. Her mother was useless. Prim was too young to understand.

 

She had been all alone, and she knew it. Those miners might have valued her father, but they wouldn't be able to help. They hadn't. No one had helped her. Just Peeta.

 

Peeta. Who had survived his first day in the arena and was doing something she'd never seen before; using his district’s ancient salute to honor his partner.

 

Her heart ached as she thought about how friendly Tessa and Peeta had seemed in the previous week. She was sure they hadn't known each other before the reaping, but who was to say they hadn't become friends during training?

 

It didn't sound like a good strategy, befriending someone you might have to kill; but anything seemed possible whenever Peeta Mellark was concerned.

 

Claudius Templesmith's voice filled the small room. He reminded the audience of the times for the next mandatory viewing, and he wished everyone a good night’s sleep. The screen went black. The show was over.

 

That night, in the darkness of her bedroom, Katniss tried to remember everything she knew about the arena.

 

Closing her eyes, she pictured the map she'd seen on TV. According to all the experts, Peeta had been very lucky when he decided to head towards the lake. Besides having shelter and a water source, he'd be able to fish and gather some edible plants to supplement his supplies.

 

Not knowing whether he'd be able to do such things bothered her. Fishing was simple enough once you saw the fish, but gathering could be dangerous. Even Gale, who had spent so much time out in the woods, was sometimes unsure of what to eat and what to avoid.

 

Her heart raced anxiously as she worried about Peeta eating the wrong thing and dying by mistake.

 

Prim's deep sigh startled her. "You can't sleep?" the young girl asked.

 

"No. Did I wake you?" Katniss enquired, worried that her tossing and turning had bothered her sister. "Do you want me to go into the living room?" she offered.

 

"No. I'm fine," Prim assured her, yawning widely as if to prove her sleepiness. After a small pause, she added, "He's going to be ok, Katniss."

 

"What?" Katniss asked, completely taken off guard by her sister's declaration.

 

"Peeta," Prim clarified. "He's gonna be ok. He's got supplies and a hiding place. The closest tributes are miles away from him, and they're not even careers. He isn't hurt. He'll be fine."

 

A thick lump settled on Katniss's throat. She didn't know what to say. She had been keeping her concern over Peeta to herself, or so she thought anyway. She couldn't understand how her sister had figured it out.

 

She was about to protest, to tell Prim she didn't know what she was talking about; but she knew it was pointless. Instead, she nodded and tried for her most convincing tone.

 

"You're right, Little Duck," Katniss said, "he'll be ok."

 

She hoped Prim had been too sleepy to notice the doubt lacing her words.

 


	6. The Game (Staying Alive - Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, chapter 6 is here! 
> 
> I want to thank you for your patience and support. This chapter turned out to be much harder than I'd anticipated. It was also turning out to be much longer than I'd thought, so I decided to cut it in two. The second section is almost done, so I won't keep you waiting for long.
> 
> I also want to thank the lovely Merciki (aka thegirlfromoverthepond, for taking a look at my story and making a few suggestions, and the wonderful Fanficallergy, for holding my hand and asking all the right questions. I wouldn't have finished this without her help.
> 
> Alright, I've kept you waiting long enough. Hope you enjoy.

Katniss's life didn't change much once the Game began. She still woke up before dawn and went out into the woods every day. Her mornings seemed to vanish as she rushed around the Hob and visited Gale’s house to drop his share.

 

Following Gale’s advice, she only went into town when she had squirrels, berries, ducks or rabbits to trade. She kept clear of old Cray’s house, and she avoided the peacekeeper reinforcements like the plague. All in all, it was a good routine, it kept her mornings busy and her coin purse full.

 

Noon always found her sitting on her spot in front of the television, playing with the end of her braid as she anxiously waited for the mandatory transmissions to begin.

 

The Capitol commentators and their senseless dribble drove her crazy, and she tried her best to block their commentary out. But her ears perked up whenever Peeta’s name was mentioned. An annoyed scowl would invariably settle on her face as soon as the newscasters moved on to discuss some other tribute’s situation.

 

If Prim or her mother minded her nervousness or her constant mood swings, they kept it to themselves.

 

The first couple of days were rather uneventful for Peeta. He spent most of his time scouting the area which surrounded his camp and walking along the river bank; collecting mud and branches which he used to build a screen to cover his cave’s entrance from prying eyes.

 

Katniss watched in awe as the tribute’s skilled hands wove the branches and ivy leaves, turning them into a foliage curtain which he fixed over the cave’s mouth by using the sticky mud he’d found during his walks.

 

The finished product was like nothing Katniss had ever seen before. She wondered how he’d managed to create something so delicate and realistic with just a few twigs and his bare hands.

 

Once he was satisfied with his camouflage project, Peeta turned his attention to finding food. Even with careful rationing, the supplies from the Cornucopia wouldn't last forever.

 

First, he used the switchblade he’d found inside the backpack to fashion a rudimentary spear out of a long, thin branch. Then, he went to the water’s edge, sat down and waited. It didn't take long for the fish to show up. They were fat and sluggish. It only took a few tries for Peeta to skewer one of them with his spear.

 

“Wow! That was fast!” Prim commented when she saw the speed and ease with which Peeta lit a fire to cook his food.

 

Mrs. Everdeen smiled at her daughter. “They use wood ovens at the bakery, he's probably been starting them for years,” she explained.

 

Prim nodded.

 

Katniss recognized the slow, deliberate motion of her sister's head. She could almost see the cogs working in her brain as she considered her mother's words.

 

Suddenly, Prim froze and asked, “How do you know that, mom?”

 

“The Mellarks were my neighbors growing up,” Mrs. Everdeen explained, “Lorelei Mellark was one of my best friends. I spent many a cold afternoon baking cookies with her and her brother.”

 

“You’re friends with Mr. Mellark?” Katniss blurted out, her sharp tone did nothing to conceal her surprise.

 

Lilian Everdeen smiled at her daughter’s reaction. Her words were thick with nostalgia when she said, “We were practically inseparable. Lorelei, Terry, Mayselee, Meg, Jared and me, we did everything together. Even Constance came along sometimes.”

 

Constance. Mrs. Mellark. Peeta's mother. Katniss swallowed thickly as she thought of the stern woman who had punished her son for feeding a desperate Seam girl.

 

Back in the arena, Peeta continued his search for food.

 

Katniss was surprised to see how carefully he inspected every plant and shrub he encountered. As far as she could see, most plants in the arena weren't poisonous. But she was happy that the baker’ son wasn't taking any chances when it came to putting unknown greens in his mouth.

 

Every step he took made her flinch, though. The amount of noise he made as he moved around the forest shocked her, and she thanked his lucky stars for keeping his competitors out of earshot.

 

* * *

 

It was Peeta's fourth day in the arena when balls of fire began raining from the sky.

 

According to the commentators, the game makers were growing restless. There were too many tributes scattered about, and the career pack wasn't tracking them down quickly enough.

 

Katniss listened, tense and anxious, as the Capitol broadcasters complained about the tribute's performance.

 

“This year's batch of allies isn’t exactly impressive,” Cornelius Lovejoy, the daytime anchor, remarked. His voice oozed disdain as he elaborated, “They did a good job of securing the Cornucopia, but they haven't done much since.”

 

“They did track down and kill that girl from 8,” the heavily made-up woman who was sitting next to him, piped up.

 

“My dear Tanya,” Cornelius said in a slow, deliberate tone, “even a blind bat would have found that girl and her campfire. She practically invited them over!” he complained, gesturing wildly in mock frustration. “And quite frankly, Cato’s skill with a knife leaves much to be desired. He’s become the natural leader of this year’s pack. He should have been more precise. It took forever for the tribute to die,” he reminded her, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “The whole affair was very unappealing and incredibly slow. Absolutely no sense of urgency! Quite frankly I was bored to tears. I’m not convinced we should be adding her name to his list of kills.”

 

Katniss shook her head in disgust. The girl from District 8 had been cold and terrified. She hadn't been very smart about it, even Prim had commented on her recklessness when she'd lit a fire in the darkened forest. But watching her struggle with her wounds as she slowly bled to death could hardly be described as boring. Horrible, distressing and heartbreaking were far more accurate descriptions.

 

“Well, aren’t we being a little too demanding?” Tanya countered, “Not everyone can be as graceful and lethal as Finnick Odair!”

 

The man waved her off with a smile. “I know that. But remember, they are supposed to put on a good show for us. All we’ve gotten so far is a snooze fest! I hope this new development heats things up a bit,” he added with a loud chuckle.

 

Katniss began pulling on her braid once more. The commentator's glee made her nauseous with worry.

 

“Oh, haha, things are definitely getting warmer in there! Let's see how our remaining tributes handle themselves, shall we?” the woman concluded with an exaggerated wink in the camera’s direction.

 

* * *

 

Peeta ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

 

He had been kneeling down, inspecting a berry bush, when the first ball of fire went flying right over his head. Surprised, he’d looked up, only to see the ball crashing into a tree, instantly covering it in flames.

 

Peeta’s world turned black. The thick cloud of smoke created by the burning tree threatened to swallow him; but his instincts kicked in, and he bolted, heading as far away from the fire as he could.

 

Katniss watched, wide-eyed and still, as the tribute from District 12 rushed through the forest.

 

Fiery balls kept dropping from the sky, following every step the baker’s son took.

 

The game makers had decided to make things difficult for him. They already knew he could survive, now they wanted to see him fight for his life.

 

Peeta was growing tired by the second. He’d been running for a while, successfully sidestepping scorching trees and branches, but he wasn't fast enough. He could avoid the fire, but he couldn't outrun the thick dark tendrils of smoke which wrapped around his throat.

 

His lungs were dry. His vision was blurred by the tears welling in his eyes to alleviate the harsh sting of the deathly fumes.

 

Desperate, he gasped for air. His lungs filled with the noxious vapor and he collapsed on the floor. His chest heaved as he struggled to get back to his feet.

 

Unable to stand back up, he settled for crawling on his hands and knees, keeping his face as close to the damp earth as possible. Fallen leaves, long pine needles, and twigs brushed his cheeks as he moved blindly across the forest.

 

Suddenly, the earth under his fingertips turned slippery. The ghost of a smile flickered on Peeta’s lips.

 

In the Capitol, an enthusiastic Cornelius exclaimed, “He’s reached the riverbank!”

 

Katniss watched, her back as stiff as a board, as Peeta slid into the water.

 

Peeta didn’t stop. He waded into the river, keeping close to the shore and the overgrown vegetation which kept him concealed.

 

The water and the plants shielded him from the smoke and fire as he followed a path along the shoreline.

 

Katniss began twisting the end of her braid between her fingers and wondered if he knew his current route was driving him away from his camp.

 

Peeta’s image was replaced by a shot of the careers running through the forest. Katniss cursed under her breath.

 

The blazing projectiles had them running for cover, but unlike Peeta, the careers had used their dampened t-shirts to cover their nose and mouth. The male tribute from District 1, Marvel, was even wearing a gas mask.

 

The camera followed them until they reached a clearing. According to the map on the screen, it was a small circle of trees surrounded by some thick shrubs.

 

Katniss narrowed her eyes as she analyzed the updated information. Behind her, Prim gasped.

 

“They're all together now!” the young girl exclaimed.

 

“Yeah,” Katniss agreed, “except for Thresh, see?” she asked, pointing to the blue number 11 flashing on the screen.

 

Thresh hadn’t left his hiding place among the tall grasses. The map didn’t show any damage to the area.

 

“I wonder why the game makers decided to spare that side of the arena,” Katniss mused out loud.

 

“Well, those tall grasses look pretty dry,” Prim said, “maybe they thought they wouldn’t be able to contain a fire there.”

 

Katniss considered her sister’s words. A moment later, she nodded in agreement. “Good point, Little Duck.”

 

“Well, well, well,” Tanya Larson, the female broadcaster, enthused, “things are bound to get much more interesting now!”

 

“Let’s hope so!” her male counterpart added, “This new development has forced the allies to move out of their comfort zone. They don’t know it yet, but the fire has placed them right under their competitor's noses!”

 

The wicked glint in Cornelius’s eye sent a shiver down Katniss’s spine. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw what he meant.

 

The smoke had begun to lift. The careers were still in the clearing, lying on the ground; their backs rested against the thick tree trunks which encircled them as they regained their strength.

 

The camera turned towards the sky, showing the thick canopy of leaves which provided a pleasant shade for the exhausted tributes.

 

There was a faint rustling of leaves. The image shifted, zooming in on it, and revealed Rue, perched on a tree, watching her rivals.

 

Katniss gasped at the sight of the young tribute on her screen. Her heart beat madly inside her ribcage as anxiety took over.

 

In her time in the arena, Rue had proven to be as graceful as a bird, practically flying from one tree to the next as she moved through the forest. But the careers were practically stepping on her toes. She wouldn't be able to jump to another tree without them noticing her.

 

Cornelius’s voice came through the speakers once more. “Finally!” he exclaimed. “This is what a Game should be like!”

 

“Yes!” his female colleague agreed. “This is much more exciting!”

 

An expanded version of the map covered the screen. Katniss leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she analyzed the image in front of her.

 

“As you can see, the rain of fire didn't cause any casualties,” Tanya said.

 

Katniss scowled at the tone of disappointment she detected in the presenter’s voice.

 

“The good news is that some of our tributes have been forced out of their lairs,” Tanya added almost gleefully.

 

Katniss inspected the map before her. This version was far more detailed than the condensed image she’d been looking at. Her mouth went dry when she realized how close Peeta was to Rue's tree.

 

Prim placed her small hand on her sister's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her pale blue eyes reflected the worry coursing through Katniss's veins.

 

Neither girl spoke. They kept their eyes glued to the screen as they tried to absorb every bit of information the Capitol offered.

 

Back in the studio, the presenters began speculating. They were thrilled by the large concentration of tributes in the small clearing, and they wasted no time reminding the audience about their sponsoring privileges.

 

“Remember, even the best tributes need a helping hand every once in a while,” Cornelius said, “now might be a good time to show your appreciation,” he added with a wink.

 

Katniss’s heart plummeted. District 12 never had any sponsors, she could only hope the Capitol crowds were waiting for the career alliance to deliver on its yearly promise. Most people preferred to wait until the true leaders had shown their capabilities. Otherwise, Peeta and Rue wouldn't stand a chance.

 

The full map disappeared leaving a split screen in its place. One side of the screen showed the careers, still resting against the tree trunks; most of them were already breathing normally.

 

Cato was back on leader mode, trying to figure out whether anyone had been injured during the fireball attack. The girls had a couple of scrapes on their arms, but other than that, everyone was fine.

 

No one noticed the small girl hovering over their heads.

 

Peeta’s image covered the other side of the screen. He was a few steps away from the clearing, huddled underneath an overgrown shrub. His wet clothes stuck to his stocky frame.

 

Katniss frowned as she considered his situation. His current location was far from perfect, he couldn't see the other tributes, and he couldn't run away without alerting them.

 

Fortunately, the careers weren't even trying to hide their position. Their loud chatter had quickly given their location away. Their conversation rang loud and clear across the arena.

 

Peeta wrapped his arms around himself. He had left his jacket inside the cave, and Katniss could see gooseflesh erupting all over his arms. He looked cold and miserable as he shivered in the shade, and she worried about him being trapped there until nightfall.

 

Peeta's image was replaced by Cornelius Lovejoy and Tanya Larson looking ridiculous in their gaudy Capitol outfits.

 

Katniss let out an exasperated huff.

 

“It looks like some real action will finally be coming our way!” Tanya exclaimed.

 

“It does look that way, Tanya,” her co-anchor agreed. “Unfortunately, this morning’s transmission has come to an end,” he added with an exaggerated pout. He was trying to look remorseful, but Katniss thought he looked positively creepy.

 

“But don't worry citizens!” the woman piped in, “Claudius Templesmith will be back tonight! Don't forget to tune in to his special recap of the 74th annual Hunger Games!”

 

Katniss scoffed, the anchors were always making it sound like there was a choice. It was almost like they didn't know TV sets all across Panem would automatically turn on at 8 pm, forcing people to watch their children die whether they wanted to or not.

 

* * *

 

Katniss’s old television set flickered to life, a new show was about to start.

 

Claudius Templesmith's voice filled the small living room. His excitement was palpable as he welcomed his audience. His purple suit sparkled under the studio’s bright lights, and his blindingly white smile was almost manic as he spoke about the arena.

 

“What a game changer this afternoon has been!” he exclaimed. “I can't remember the last time I was this surprised. This Game is definitely not for the faint of heart!”

 

The presenter’s glee made Katniss shudder.

 

“I don't want to spoil anything. But, rest assured, a panel of Games experts will be joining our transmission tonight. And now, without further ado, I give you the 74th Hunger Games!”

 

The sun was setting in the arena. The temperature was dropping fast. The careers, equipped with heat-reflecting jackets and packaged food, had decided to spend the night out in the clearing.

 

Peeta and Rue had kept their positions.

 

The girl from District 11 was sitting, stone still, on her branch. Her eyes were trained on something the camera didn't show. Whatever it was, it seemed to be well within her reach.

 

Peeta had pulled his legs up to his chest in an attempt to keep his body temperature up. His eyes were closed but, unlike the careers, he was still awake. Trying to sleep in his damp clothes was proving to be an impossibility.

 

Suddenly, Rue began to move.

 

With cat-like grace, the twelve-year-old girl lowered herself to the branch below her. Her new position gave her an unobstructed view of the career’s camp.

 

The camera focused on the girl’s face as she analyzed her competition. Determination shone in her eyes as she nodded, just once.

 

In one quick motion, Rue extended her arms over her head. With tiny fists, she grabbed the branch where she’d sat moments before. Her knuckles turned white under the tight grip of her hands on the tree’s limb.

 

After taking a few calming breaths, Rue extended her legs and pushed herself away from the lower branch.

 

Katniss gasped as she saw the girl dangling from the slender bough so many feet above the ground.

 

What happened next, would change the history of the Hunger Games forever.

 

Rue began to swing, bending and extending her legs with each pass to gain speed.

 

Katniss’s eyes grew wide as the tribute gained momentum.

 

The camera followed Rue’s every move. Her brow was covered in sweat; she was growing tired by the second.

 

Using the last of her strength, the small girl directed her extended feet towards a big oblong ball which hung from one of the nearby branches.

 

“Is that a tracker-jacker nest?” a shocked Prim asked, her finger pointed towards the screen.

 

“Looks that way,” Katniss said, unable to pry her eyes from the TV set.

 

Tracker-jackers were genetically modified insects which had been programmed to follow their attackers. A couple of stings meant high fevers and hallucinations; several meant death.

 

Rue’s feet hit the ball.

 

There was a loud cracking sound.

 

The impact of the girl’s feet dislodged the nest from the branch and sent it flying through the air, straight into the career’s campsite.

 

The ball landed with a loud thump in the middle of the clearing.

 

A loud buzzing sound poured out of the TV’s speakers, filling the room as a dark cloud of angry insects came flying out of the broken nest.

 

In a matter of seconds, the careers were on their feet. Screams of surprise and agony cut through the air as the confused tributes tried to understand what was happening.

 

The swarm of angry insects enveloped them.

 

Exhausted, Rue dropped onto the nearest branch and watched as the world below her went mad.

 

Marvel, still protected by his gas mask, was the first one to understand what was happening. “To the lake!” he instructed.

 

The two boys pushed through the clearing and ran as fast as they could towards the water source. Clove followed closely behind.

 

Glimmer and the girl from District 4 weren’t that lucky. The two girls collapsed on the floor, screaming in agony as the vicious mutts took out their anger on them.

 

Katniss and Prim watched in horror as the color drained from Glimmer’s beautiful face. Her eyes, once bright and flirtatious, were now dull and lifeless as they looked back at them from the screen.

 

The girl from District 4 didn’t fare much better. Her face contorted in pain as the tracker-jacker venom coursed through her veins.

 

Two cannon shots rang through the arena. The two tributes were dead.

 

From his hiding place, Peeta heard all the commotion. His eyes widened in terror as he tried to piece what was happening. The careers’ screams gave him only a general idea of the problem, but he understood enough to keep well away from them.

 

With the two girls dead, the tracker-jackers lost interest in the campsite. The swarm of insects, still angry and disoriented, began to spread out, looking for new targets.

 

Rue’s face covered the screen. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, her lower lip trembled slightly as she tried to keep her emotions in check. Suddenly, she tilted her head a little to the side. Her bright obsidian eyes latched onto something on the ground. A sad smile settled on her lips.

 

Carefully, she wrapped her skinny arms around the tree trunk and lowered herself to the ground.

 

With graceful, silent moves she approached the two dead tributes. Their bodies, swollen and disfigured, laid sprawled on the grass. Their backpacks, still brimming with supplies, were trapped under their bodies.

 

The buzz of tracker-jackers could still be heard around the clearing.

 

Rue moved carefully, trying not to attract the mutts’ attention.

 

"Should she be doing that?" Prim questioned.

 

Katniss turned towards her sister. Prim's legs were folded in front of her,  and her arms were wrapped tightly around her shins. She was like a blond ball of undiluted anxiety. 

 

"Well, she needs supplies," Katniss reasoned.

 

"I know, but the tracker-jackers are still there!"

 

Katniss nodded. "She can't waste any time, Little Duck," she said soothingly. "The hovercraft will be collecting the bodies soon. She can't afford to lose food to the game makers."

 

Prim huffed in frustration, she knew what was at stake. She didn't like it, though. Not one bit.

 

With grim determination, Rue snuck her hand under Glimmer’s body. Her small hand found the strap of the career’s backpack, and she gave it a pull.

 

The heavy sack didn’t budge.

 

Rue pulled once more. She had almost dislodged the bag from under the tribute’s body when Clove’s angry voice reached the clearing.

 

“I’m going back for my weapons,” Clove yelled, “there’s no way I’m letting the game makers take them away.”

 

A moment later, Clove appeared in the clearing. Her eyes widened in surprise when they landed on Rue.

 

“You,” Clove snarled. “You did this to us!”

 

Rue stood still, suddenly frozen under Clove’s sadistic glare.

 

In a matter of seconds, Clove was upon her.

 

The tribute from District 2 pushed Rue to the ground and straddled her chest pinning the small girl against the forest floor.

 

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” the career challenged. “You think you’re unreachable, jumping from tree to tree without touching the ground. Well, I’ve got news for you, girly. I got you!”

 

Rue remained motionless, terror shone in her eyes as Clove described all the ways in which she was going to avenge her slain allies.

 

The sound of a twig snapping under someone’s foot broke her out of her trance. She turned towards the noise.

 

Her jaw dropped when she saw Peeta standing a few feet away from her.

 

His hands were balled into tight fists by his sides, his narrowed eyes were focused on Clove. “Let her go!” he instructed.

 

On the other side of the TV screen,  a wide-eyed Katniss held her breath.

 

Clove’s manic cackle filled the clearing. “Or what?” she challenged.

 

Without another word, Peeta closed the distance between them and slammed his outstretched palms against the career’s chest.

 

Clove flew like a ragdoll across the clearing, landing with a loud thump at the base of a tree.

 

The rush of adrenaline in the air alerted the remaining tracker-jackers. The small swarm moved quickly through the field, stinging whatever they could find.

 

Clove screamed in agony as most of the terrible insects landed on her.

 

Katniss's heart pounded madly inside her chest. She gulped for air and hoped the living room would stop spinning.

 

Clove's desperate cries reached the river bank were her allies were frantically trying to clean their wounds.

 

Cato and Marvel looked at each other through fearful eyes. The venom coursing through their veins was already playing mind tricks on them. Terrified of the sounds they heard, and no doubt suspicious of one another, they ran in opposite directions, putting as much distance between each other as they could.

 

Back in the clearing, Peeta was helping a stunned Rue back up to her feet.

 

With one swift motion, he lifted Glimmer’s lifeless body. Slowly, he pulled the backpack off of the dead girl’s shoulders. A small smile curved his lips as he extended his hand and offered the bag to Rue.

 

Surprised and confused, the girl grabbed the pack and held it tightly against her chest.

 

After a moment of silence, Rue spoke, “You’re stung,” she said. Her eyes locked on the bite marks on Peeta’s arms and face.

 

Katniss gasped, with all the commotion she had failed to notice Peeta's injuries.

 

“So are you,” he answered, pointing at Rue's hand which had begun to swell.

 

A cannon blast rang through the air. Clove was dead.

 

Peeta looked around the clearing. His bright blue eyes were starting to cloud over, the poison from the stings was making his head swim.

 

“We should move away from here,” Rue suggested.

 

“Uh-huh,” he agreed, “we’re too exposed.”

 

Haltingly, the two tributes made their way back to the stream.

 

Rue lead the way, stopping every once in a while to inspect the sting on her hand. Suddenly, she stopped walking. The small girl took a deep breath and bit her lip, digging her nails into the soft skin of the back of her hand, she began to squeeze.

 

“She’s pulling the stinger out!” Prim exclaimed.

 

Katniss glanced quickly at her sister.

 

Prim seemed more relaxed now that Clove was out of the way. Who could blame her? The girl from District 2 had been vicious and cruel.

 

“That’s such a good idea,” Prim added, incapable of containing her admiration. “With the stinger out, the venom will just pour out of the wound. She’ll be like new in no time.”

 

Katniss nodded her silent agreement. Her heart was still racing, and her chest was tight with worry. Peeta had only been bitten a few times, but he hadn’t removed the stingers from his wounds. She could already see the effect of the poison spreading through his body. His eyes were unfocused, and the color was draining from his face.

 

The tributes had been walking for a few minutes when Peeta’s legs began to shake.

 

“We should set up camp here,” Rue said, “we’re close enough to the water. The thick bushes and tall trees will keep us hidden.”

 

Peeta didn’t argue. With a weak grunt, he collapsed on the floor. Using the last of his energy, he crawled under an overgrown bush and curled into a ball.

 

“He looks a bit green,” Prim said, worry lacing her words.

 

Katniss’s eyes welled up with tears. Peeta looked so pale and helpless lying under the bush. All of his food and supplies were still in his cave on the other side of the stream. And, even if Rue extracted the stingers from his body, he’d still have to ride out the effects of the venom which was already poisoning his bloodstream.

 

Claudius Templesmith appeared on the screen. His face, contorted in excitement, made Katniss flinch.

 

“What did I tell you?” the presenter enthused all the way from the Capitol. “This is turning out to be a fascinating Game!

 

“For those of you keeping track at home, that’s three deaths on one day…”

 

Katniss turned away from the television and blocked the rest of the commentator’s words. She didn’t care about bets, odds or the tribute’s positions on the performance charts.

 

Her mind raced as she tried to come to terms with what she had just seen. Against all odds, Rue, the small girl who reminded her so much of Prim, had managed to survive another day in the arena. The twelve-year-old was responsible for killing two people, and now it looked like she was partnering up with Peeta. The notion intrigued her. She didn't remember many non-career tributes from different districts helping each other out in the arena.

 

Anxiety settled in the pit of Katniss’s stomach as she considered Peeta's situation. He was going to have to spend the night out in the cold, with nothing but the damp clothes on his back and a few leafy branches to protect him. As far as she could tell, Rue was going to stick by his side. But, even though the girl was undoubtedly smart and resourceful, would she be able to protect him if they were targeted by predators during the night?

 

Prim’s comforting hand on her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts. The sad look in her sister’s eyes made her realize she had been talking out loud.

 

“They’ll be ok,” Prim said. Using her fingers, she counted out the remaining tributes. “The boy from 11 hasn’t left his campsite. The girl from 5 and the boy from 3 are by the cornucopia. The careers are injured and alone.”

 

Katniss considered her sister’s encouraging words. She was right, there weren’t that many people left in the arena, and the other tributes were too busy with their own problems to target Peeta and Rue.

 

“The game makers will probably leave them alone as well,” Katniss reasoned, adding, even more, arguments to her sister’s point “They got tons of exciting footage today, they don’t need to pressure them now.”

 

Hope shone in Prim’s blue eyes. She nodded, pleased with Katniss’s optimism.

 

Suddenly, the room went quiet.

 

The screen went black. Mandatory transmission was over.

 


	7. The Game (Staying Alive – Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's part 2. Enjoy.

 

 

A quiet stillness settled over the arena. Time seemed to slow down as four of the seven remaining tributes recovered from the tracker-jacker attack.

 

Marvel shivered under a tree, whimpering softly as all sorts of horrors danced behind his closed eyelids.

 

Cato, who was taller and stronger, had managed to reach the Cornucopia. He was lying on the ground with his knees tightly pressed against his chest in a fetal position. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep as he waited for the venom stored inside the stingers he hadn’t pulled out of his body to stop poisoning his mind.

 

Next to him, the boy from District 3 bit his nails and wondered what had happened in the forest.

 

The boy had been instructed to keep an eye on the supplies while the careers went out patrolling. He had seen the fireballs dropping in the distance and had heard the quick succession of cannon blasts which followed. He hadn’t expected to find Cato rushing back into the building looking like a man possessed or to see the faces of the three career girls looking back at him from the sky during the nightly recap.

 

Thresh and the red-headed girl from District 5 kept to themselves and carefully rationed their supplies. The strategy had worked for them so far, and neither one was willing to push their luck.

 

Back at the stream, Rue watched over Peeta. The young girl had gotten to work as soon as he had collapsed under the bushes. She had immediately located and extracted the stingers the mutts had left on his arms and face when they’d bit him.

 

After removing the small poisoned darts, she had taken a walk along the riverbank.

 

Katniss, Prim, and the rest of Panem kept their eyes glued to the TV screens as the girl from District 11 searched the water’s edge.

 

Rue hadn’t walked long when she found what she was looking for. A satisfied smile had crept up her lips as she inspected the dark green leaves which grew by her feet. Without much ceremony, Rue had grabbed a handful of leaves and popped it into her mouth. After chewing vigorously for about a minute, she spat the green wad of leaves and pressed it on her hand.

 

Katniss’s eyebrows shot up when she saw what Rue was doing. “Have you ever done that?” she asked her mother.

 

With a shake of her head Mrs. Everdeen answered, “No, I’ve always used a mortar to mash up leaves. But it’s not a bad idea, by chewing them she’s releasing their oils, allowing them to come into contact with the skin. The spit just binds the whole thing together. She should notice the effects immediately.”

 

As if to prove Mrs. Everdeen right, Rue’s features had immediately relaxed. The pain from her injuries was obviously subsiding. Satisfied with the results, she had stuffed her pockets with leaves and headed back to the bush where Peeta lay hidden.

 

Back in their hiding place, she had repeated the procedure with the leaves, chewing, spitting and pressing the sticky glops everywhere Peeta had been bitten. Satisfied with her nursing efforts, she had covered him with the heat reflecting blanket she had found in Glimmer’s bag.

 

After leaving a fresh water bottle within Peeta’s reach, she had taken the backpack, and all her supplies and she had gone looking for a tall tree in which to spend the night.

 

Katniss’s heart plummeted when she saw Rue climbing once more. She knew the girl was right, the branches had already proven to be the safest place for her. But her mind kept going back to Peeta, alone and sick by the water’s edge.

 

* * *

 

Days went by. The tributes in the arena rested and waited.

 

Back in District 12, life continued as normal.

 

It was Saturday afternoon. Katniss was on the Meadow, sitting under a tree when she spotted Gale walking towards her.

 

Her eyes lit up, and she waved at him.

 

He looked so tall from where she sat, so grown up. She was shocked by how unfamiliar he seemed all of a sudden with his miner’s clothes and hair cut short. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out how much time had gone by since they’d seen each other last.

 

He was still her hunting partner and her best friend. She visited his home and spoke to his family every day. But, between mandatory transmissions and his new obligations at the mine, they hadn’t been spending any time together. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone so many days without talking to him.

 

“Hey, Catnip!” he greeted her, “your mom said I’d find you here.”

 

“Yeah, I’m not very hard to track down these days,” she groused.

 

He chuckled as he lowered to sit next to her. “So, how have you been?” he asked.

 

“Fine. I’ve been making my rounds. It’s incredible how much you can find out there right now,” she reported.

 

Gale nodded. His gray eyes scanned the Meadow, and he smiled.

 

“Oh! I forgot to tell your mom!" she exclaimed, slapping her forehead with her open palm. "A couple of your snares got snapped. I think maybe a wild dog or a larger animal stepped on them. I tried fixing them, but they haven’t caught anything since then. I might have done it wrong,” she admitted with a disappointed scowl.

 

Gale considered Katniss's words for a moment. “Maybe,” he said, “or maybe it’s just the large animal’s scent that’s driving the others away. I might have to find a new place for them. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

 

Katniss nodded.

 

The hunting partners sat in silence for a while.

 

Katniss focused on the sound of her friend’s breathing. She was soon comforted by the familiarity of it. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sense of calm and peace which surrounded her.

 

A pang of nostalgia hit her as she remembered that moments like this one, peaceful and quiet out in the open with him, had already become a rarity. Gale would never be free to go out into the woods during the week again. And once he started a family, he was bound to start spending more time with them than with her.

 

Gale had never mentioned what his plans for the future were. As far as Katniss knew, he wasn’t involved with anyone. But boys in District 12 became men the second their last reaping was over. The crowning of a new victor was usually followed by announcements of toasting ceremonies and betrothals.

 

 _That's one thing Seam folk and merchants have in common_ , Katniss thought, _they’re all too eager to start living. They all mistake aging out of the reaping with being free_.

 

On top of everything else, Katniss knew Gale was very popular among the female population. Between his handsome features, his hunting, and his bargaining skills, he was what many referred to as a “good catch.” It wouldn’t be long before Gale chose his bride and, once that happened, things would change even more. Because who would be happy to have their significant other traipsing around the woods with an unmarried girl?

 

After a few minutes, Gale broke the silence. “So how about that girl from 11, huh? Who would have thought she had it in her? Getting rid of two careers in one blow.”

 

“Yeah,” Katniss agreed, “she’s smart,” Appreciation colored her words as she added, “and resourceful. She’s even taking care of Peeta now.”

 

“Well,” Gale scoffed, “I wouldn’t call that smart.”

 

The disdain in his voice hit Katniss like a slap in the face. Surprised, she turned to face him. “What do you mean?” she asked.

 

“C’mon, Catnip, they’re TRIBUTES,” he said, emphasizing the last word as if he was speaking to a small child. “She should be running away from him, not helping him heal.” With a shake of his head and a chuckle, he added, “What do you think is gonna happen once he wakes up? Do you think he’s gonna hold her hand and start skipping around the forest?”

 

Katniss’s eyes widened in shock when she realized what he was implying. “You think he’s going to attack her?”

 

“Of course he is! He’d be a fool not to!”

 

Katniss held her breath for an instant, she didn’t care for Gale’s dismissive tone. She was only two years younger than him, she didn’t need to be treated like an infant. And she definitely didn’t like what he was saying.

 

“Peeta wouldn’t do that!” she blurted out.

 

Gale’s eyes turned steely under the afternoon sun. Katniss could feel them burning a hole through her as he asked, “How do you know that?”

 

“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling like a rabbit caught in a snare.

 

Gale’s carefully enunciated words cut through her like a sharp blade. “Yeah, Catnip, how do you know what the baker’s son would or wouldn’t do?”

 

“Well, I…-”

 

“Because this isn’t the first time you’ve made a comment like that, you know? So, I’d like to know where you’re getting your information from.”

 

Katniss stood still, every muscle in her body tensed as she watched her friend’s mind at work.

 

She had seen this before. Gale was practically famous for analyzing and dissecting every bit of information he had, especially when that information came from the Capitol. He would turn over every single statement and idea until he found the “true meaning” behind each word. Watching him now, as he considered her words, made her feel like a traitor. She didn’t like it.

 

Silence, tense and anxious, stretched between them. Katniss folded her arms in front of her chest and waited. She didn't like being questioned. If Gale thought he could bully her into talking about Peeta, he was in for a surprise.

 

A couple of minutes later, Gale relented. He groaned loudly, throwing his arms in the air, and exclaimed, “Fine! Have it your way. Don't tell me anything. Why don't I tell you what I know instead?”

 

Without even glancing in his direction, Katniss shrugged.

 

With a dry chuckle and a shake of his head, Gale continued, “So far, Mellark hasn’t behaved like a vicious killer --I’ll give you that. He’s spent most of his time walking around, setting up house, and staying out of trouble.

 

“Yes, he did protect the little girl,” he acknowledged, “he saved her from what sounded like a horrible death. But, that actually worked in his favor.”

 

Katniss's eyes snapped open, and she glared at him.

 

Gale raised his hands defensively. “Just think about it,” he asked, “Clove was ruthless. We all saw what she was capable of. So, he saw an opportunity to get rid of her while she was distracted, and he took it. Or what, do you honestly think he got rid of a career just to help the little girl?” he scoffed, “That would make no sense, Catnip, no sense at all.”

 

Katniss sighed, she was running out of patience for her hunting partner’s narrow-minded notions.

 

“I know it’s not the usual behavior for a tribute,” she said. “but he won’t hurt Rue. Why do you think he gave her the backpack? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it already. She was standing right in front of him. Why wait?”

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “The tracker-jacker venom was probably messing with his brain. You saw how badly he was shaking when they reached the river bank.” Gale rolled his eyes, his voice was full of contempt when he added, “One would think a merchant kid would have a higher tolerance for these types of things. You know what, though? It doesn’t even matter. Even with Rue’s nursing efforts, he might not make it through the night.”

 

Gale’s words pushed the air right out of her lungs. As the world around her began to spin, Katniss gasped for air and closed her eyes. She refused to think about Peeta dying under a bush by the stream.

 

“I wouldn’t rule him out,” she muttered, trying to keep her words from betraying the fear she felt, “he’s been avoiding conflict, and he’s in bad shape right now. But he’s a real contender.”

 

“He is?” Gale questioned. Sarcasm dripped from every word as he added, “Ok, this you’re gonna have to explain.”

 

Katniss steeled herself against Gale’s mocking gaze. Slowly, she enumerated all the relevant information she remembered about Peeta. “He’s very strong. He’s a good wrestler. He’s smart.” Her voice was barely a whisper when she added, “And he can handle pain.”

 

Gale looked away. His voice was cold and distant when he asked, “So you do know him then.”

 

With an exasperated huff, Katniss explained, “I’ve seen him around, ok? In the market, at school. We're in the same grade. We’ve had classes together. Plus, everyone knows he finished second in last year’s wrestling tournament.”

 

Gale tilted his head to the side. His eyes shone like silver coins when he asked, “What about that pain part? What did you mean by that?”

 

Katniss shrugged. “Well, he’s managed to survive under his mother’s care. You know what that witch can be like when she’s in one of her moods.”

 

Gale nodded, Mrs. Mellark’s temper tantrums were known all over the district.

 

Katniss took a calming breath before she continued, “Think about his competition. The only careers left are Cato and that Marvel guy. They’re strong, but they’re not very smart. Other than that, there aren’t that many people left in the arena. You do the math.”

 

Gale regarded her thoughtfully and asked, “You actually believe he has a shot at winning this, don’t you?”

 

“Yes. I do,” Katniss admitted turning her eyes to the ground. Her hand reached out to the soft blades of grass which grew under her, she pulled a couple out and began twisting them in her fingers. “Honestly, I think the odds are in his favor.”

 

“So that means you agree with me,” Gale concluded, a sly smile settling on his lips.

 

Baffled by her friend’s change in demeanor Katniss mumbled, “What do you mean?”

 

The coldness in Gale’s clear voice sent a shiver down her spine. “That girl from 11 you like so much?”

 

“Uh-huh?” she asked.

 

“She’s as good as dead.”

 

* * *

 

Katniss hurried back home.

 

Her conversation with Gale had left her feeling restless. She knew he was right, of course, the rule was very clear.

 

Only one comes out.

 

She had made her peace with it. She had long accepted that, for Peeta to survive, others had to die.

 

So far, Peeta had only attacked the girl from District 2, but he wouldn't be able to make it back home without facing some of the other tributes. She knew that.

 

She also knew that Rue, with all her skills and courage, was one of the people who stood between Peeta and the victor’s crown. She hoped that circumstances and fate would make it so that it wasn't the two of them battling each other for the title.

 

Something deep inside told her that wouldn’t be the case. Alliances in the arena had a tendency to end quickly. Most people preferred to split with their partners long before they were forced into a confrontation. Generally speaking, tributes weren’t killers. That was why the arena was full of mutts and traps. They were the tools the game makers used to make sure only one person survived.

 

* * *

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another nighttime recap of the 74th Hunger Games!”

 

Katniss and Prim winced at the high-pitched voice which rang loud and clear through loudspeakers all across Panem.

 

Tanya Larson was in 'super enthusiastic' mode. Her purple eyelashes matched her nail polish, and the lime green wig she wore sparkled under the studio’s neon lights. Next to her, Cornelius Lovejoy, with his orange suit and hot pink tie, looked like elegance personified.

 

“It looks like our tributes have finally woken up from their beauty sleep!” Tanya announced cheerfully. “Let's take a look at what they've been doing today, shall we?”

 

An image of the Cornucopia, glittering under the midday sun, appeared on the screen.

 

As announced, Cato was already up and about. His hands were a bit shaky and he kept glancing nervously around himself.

 

A close-up of his face, neck, and arms showed the swollen bite marks which covered his skin. Their sickly green color made Katniss want to gag.

 

“That doesn’t look good,” Katniss said, “How can he be awake when his wounds are that infected?”

 

“They’re not infected,” Prim replied, “they look that way because he’s slathered some ointment on them. It would have been better if he’d removed the stingers, but that’s some heavy-duty medicine right there. It won’t take long for him to heal. He’s probably still hallucinating, though. Look at how unfocused his eyes are.”

 

The next tribute was Marvel.

 

According to the map on the screen, the career from District 1 wasn’t very far from where he’d slept. He had managed to hold onto his spear, which he now used as a walking stick to balance his unsteady steps along the unattended paths.

 

Judging by the size of the backpack he carried, he still had plenty of supplies.

 

“I wonder where this little explorer thinks he’s going!” Tanya exclaimed from the studio. “Cornelius, do you think he’s noticed that the path he’s on keeps going around in circles?”

 

“My dear Tanya, I don’t think the poor boy knows which way is up or down! He’s already passed that cluster of trees three times and it doesn’t look like he’s going to change his route anytime soon.”

 

“He probably should have done something about those tracker-jacker bites,” Tanya chimed in, “Everyone else seems to be doing so much better than him.”

 

“And, on that note, let’s take a look at little Rue and her patient,” Cornelius snickered, “Last time we saw them they were getting ready to head back to Peeta’s cave.”

 

Katniss fidgeted anxiously in her seat. Peeta had spent the last few days lying and twitching on the ground while he mumbled incoherently in his sleep. She couldn’t wait to see him up on his feet once more. She needed to know he was ok, and she was desperate to prove Gale and his theories were wrong.

 

Rue and Peeta came up on the screen. They were making their way up along the riverbank towards Peeta’s hideout. The tributes walked side by side, the only sounds around them were the rustling of leaves and the heavy stomping of Peeta’s feet against the ground.

 

“Oh, Cornelius! Just look at these two!” Tanya exclaimed, “Things are definitely looking up for the tributes from the outlying districts. Thanks to Rue’s nursing skills, our new set of allies is looking better than ever!”

 

“Right you are, Tanya,” Cornelius agreed. “Right now we have two alliances in play. On one side we have Cato and the boy from District 3. On the other, we have twelve-year-old Rue and the boy from District 12.”

 

With an exaggerated pout of her purple lips, Tanya asked, “Unlike the original alliance, these seem a bit… uneven, don’t you think?”

 

“Yes, absolutely. The first alliance was much stronger,” Cornelius agreed, “Tributes like Clove and Glimmer had a lot to offer. But don’t forget, strength comes in many shapes and sizes. Each one of these tributes has already proven they have what it takes to survive.”

 

Katniss stared at the screen and tried to block out the commentators’ chatter. Peeta and Rue had already reached his cave, and she didn’t want to miss any details.

 

The look of surprise on Rue’s face when Peeta showed her the curtain he’d made to camouflage the cave put a smile on Katniss’s face. Even though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she could tell the two tributes were bonding.

 

Watching them now, as they interacted with one another, convinced her of one simple truth. It didn’t matter what people thought about their strengths and weaknesses. Peeta and Rue were a team and they would stay that way for as long as they could.

 

* * *

 

Mrs. Everdeen had just turned on the TV when Tanya Larson’s enthusiastic voice came pouring out of the speakers

 

“And here’s another last-minute report!” the presenter squealed in delight. “The food pile in front of the Cornucopia just blew up in pieces! We will have exclusive footage in just a few minutes. But, in the meantime, our wonderful head game-maker Seneca Crane is here to give us all the details. Seneca?”

 

“Thank you, Tanya,” Seneca’s oily voice dripped through the loudspeakers. “It seems that this year’s tribute from the technology district was entrusted with the task of creating a system which allowed the allies to leave their food and supplies unattended while they scoured the arena. Apparently, the boy did his job a little too well. Using all 24 explosives from the startup launch pads, and creating an incredibly delicate mechanism.

 

“As you all know, the bright girl from District 5 understood the device right from the start. She used the food pile as her own personal pantry, astutely taking only what was strictly necessary to avoid detection. Until this morning, that is.”

 

Seneca Crane’s throaty chuckle made Katniss’s blood curdle.

 

 “A few minutes ago, the lovely redhead decided to store up on goodies. She was almost finished when the boy from District 3 saw her. True to his duty as keeper of the food pile, the boy called out to her. Startled, the girl tripped over one of the crates. Her sudden movement brought a sack of apples tumbling to the ground. The apples activated the explosives buried underneath the supplies. In less than a second, the whole pile had gone up in flames.”

 

“Tell me something, Seneca,” Tanya asked, “The blast from the explosion was so loud that I don’t think the other tributes heard the cannon announcing the female tribute’s death. What do you think?”

 

“You're probably right, Tanya, the other tributes are in for a surprise tonight!”

 

“Well thank you for that wonderfully detailed recap,” Tanya beamed. “It looks like the footage is ready to be transmitted. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s go back to the arena!”

 

Katniss and her family watched in silence as the events they had just heard played in front of their eyes.

 

Bits and pieces of rubble and flaming debris were still falling from the sky when Cato, who had been alerted by the explosion, left the Cornucopia where he had been taking a nap. As soon as he saw the flames, he knew what had happened.

 

The tribute from District 3 never stood a chance. In one swift motion, Cato grabbed the boy by the head and twisted it in his hands.

 

The sound of the tribute's neck breaking echoed against Katniss’s living room walls.

 

* * *

 

The news spread like wildfire through the district. Rue was dead.

 

The twelve-year-old girl had been gathering berries for dinner when Marvel found her. In an instant, the tribute from District 1 speared the little girl, snuffing out her fire forever.

 

Katniss was at the Hob; she had been trading the morning’s haul when she heard the news. She considered rushing back home and waiting for the mandatory transmission to begin, but she needed to know what was happening in the arena, and the screens in front of the justice building were the only ones showing the events in real time.

 

Just as she was leaving the Hob, she heard it. The unmistakable blast of a cannon. She knew it couldn’t be Rue’s, the girl had already been dead for a few minutes.

 

Katniss ran. Her heart raced madly inside her chest as she sped towards the town square.

 

Her every thought flew back to Peeta. His ally was dead. Had he tried to protect her? Was he injured? Was that cannon for him? Had he been killed while she wasn’t looking?

 

Katniss ran as fast as she could. Her lungs were on fire, and her legs felt as stiff as boards, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She had to know what had happened. She needed to make sure Peeta was safe.

 

She reached the square and was greeted by a large crowd. People had heard the news and, like her, had rushed to see what was happening.

 

 Anxiously, she pushed through the crowd and tried to get a better view of the screen.

 

Suddenly, she stopped. There, as big as the Justice building itself, was Peeta.

 

Katniss let out a shaky breath, tears welled up in her eyes as she took him in.

 

He was beaten up and bruised, but alive. He was leaning against a tree. His face and shirt were splattered with blood but, as far as Katniss could see, most of it wasn’t his.

 

The sadness on his face made her tremble. She wrapped her arms around herself and wished she could hold him.

 

Peeta’s blue eyes glistened with pain and sorrow. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as he waited for the hovercraft’s metal claw to collect Rue’s body.

 

Just as Rue was being lifted from the arena, Peeta pressed the three middle fingers of his left hand to his lips. Katniss held her breath as he raised them in his ally’s direction.

 

Rue was gone.

 

Peeta collapsed on the floor. He curled into a ball, wrapping his arms around his folded legs and cried.

 

A faint murmur of sobs filled the square. Katniss felt it echo and bounce all around her. Surprised, she glanced around. All over the town square, people sniffled and wept. Some were more discreet than others, but there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

 

Katniss braced herself for the next few days. There were only 3 tributes left in the arena. It wouldn’t be long before the Game came to an end.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, there was a knock on the door. It was late. The call bounced off the walls of the darkened house and startled Katniss awake.

 

She rushed to answer, pulled the door open, and found Gale Hawthorne standing on the other side.

 

Her chest tightened. Their last conversation was still fresh in her mind.

 

“What do you want?” she muttered.

 

Gale let out a deep breath. He looked pale and tired. Katniss didn’t remember ever seeing those dark circles under his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry about the other day,” he said.

 

Slowly, Katniss nodded.

 

With a brittle smile, he continued, “I know it’s not an excuse, but… these Games… they’re getting under my skin. Rory’s been so anxious this year and watching all those recaps while I work. It… it makes me feel like a trapped animal, you know?”

 

Katniss waited in silence. If Gale had something to say, she wasn’t going to stop him.

 

He sighed deeply. “Anyway, you were right. The baker’s son didn’t go after the small girl,” his voice dropped to a whisper, and he added, “Actually, people down in the mines keep talking about the way he saluted her. No one remembers a tribute saluting a fallen ally like that.”

 

“He did the same thing when Tessa died,” Katniss reminded him with a pointed look.

 

“I know, but that was different. Tessa was his partner. People saw that as a show of district pride. Honoring someone from a different district… people don’t do that.”

 

Katniss nodded. She wanted to say that Peeta wasn’t like most people. She didn’t.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Gale said.

 

There was a gentleness in his tone which surprised her, she turned to face him. His eyes shone brightly under the pale moonlight, and there was a vulnerability reflected there she had never noticed before.

 

Feeling suddenly ill at ease, Katniss quickly turned away and nodded.

 

“What’s the deal with you and the baker’s son?” Gale asked softly.

 

Discomfort gave way to irritation. “Deal?” she hissed, “There’s no deal! I’ve told you. We went to school together. He was in my class, that’s all.”

 

Determined to end the conversation with an annoyed glare, Katniss turned to face her friend. She was expecting to find anger, flaring nostrils, and narrowed eyes. She was stunned to discover sadness and hurt instead.

 

Gale’s pleading eyes locked with hers and she took a step back. She would have run back into her house if she thought she could get away with it. But she knew Gale, he wanted answers, and he wasn’t going to let up until he got them.

 

Desperate to end this uncomfortable and intrusive conversation, she spat, “What’s this sudden obsession? What do you care? You and I are friends, hunting partners. That’s it! You’re not my brother, and you certainly are NOT my father. You have no right to meddle in my life.”

 

Gale narrowed his eyes as he studied her. His gaze reflected the battle of conflicting emotions going on in his head. Not surprisingly, anger won.

 

His voice was tight when he spoke. “You’re right, I’m not your brother or your father. But, like you said, I am your friend. And I’m worried about you. If you don’t want to tell me what’s happening, that’s up to you. But just, please, don’t lie to me. Stop pretending.”

 

“Pretending? What do you mean?” she asked.

 

He looked pointedly at her and said, “We both know you didn’t care about Tessa being reaped. Because, as it turns out, you didn’t even know her. But, you do know the baker’s son. That’s who you went to see, right? After the reaping? He was the reason you were so bent out of shape that day. He’s the reason you’ve been following these Games so closely, isn’t he?”

 

Katniss scowled. She didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken. She wanted to protest, but she knew her words would only fuel Gale’s anger. So she waited, listening to her friend as he ranted.

 

“And don’t bother denying it,” he said, “I know what I’ve seen. You’re never this concerned over someone you’re not related to. Let alone someone you’ve barely even met! So, forgive me if I’m not eager to buy into this whole ‘I hardly know him’ crap.”

 

His eyes narrowed, silver daggers flew at her as he said, “You have been rooting for him all along. Wanting him to come home. Well, congratulations! He probably will. And, when he does, he’ll be a victor. And you? You’ll still be a girl from the Seam.

 

“You think merchants are deplorable, Catnip? Using and disposing of Seam girls however they please. Just wait and see what this brand-new Capitol pretty boy will do to you if you give him half the chance.”

 

Red hot anger flared in Katniss’s chest, and she yelled, “Leave. NOW!”

 

Gale glared at her. Things had obviously not gone the way he’d intended. With a loud huff, he turned on his heels and stormed away.

 

Katniss leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes. The world was spinning. Her heart was racing, and her chest felt like it was about to explode.

 

Tears welled in her eyes, and she let them fall. She didn’t understand what had just happened. How had things gotten so out of hand? One moment Gale was apologizing and the next he was yelling at her. He had never treated her like that before.

 

Over the years, she had seen Gale Hawthorne hollering and complaining many times. His hatred for the Capitol and the town’s merchants was nothing new. But he had never directed his anger towards her before.

 

A part of her knew that her friend was just worried. She knew this was how Gale protected the ones he loved. But she hadn’t asked for his protection, and she resented his approach. She wasn’t going to be bullied into accepting his point of view. Especially when he didn’t even know what he was talking about.

 

Even if the Peeta who came back from the Capitol wasn’t the same boy who had given her the bread all those years ago, there was no way he’d do the things Gale had implied. A simple look at his actions in the arena was evidence enough of his decency. Surviving what was left of the Games wouldn’t turn him into an abusive bastard.

 

As her thoughts settled, Katniss realized Gale had been right about one thing. Being a victor wasn’t the same as being a merchant.

 

She had never found a way to thank Peeta for the bread while he was a merchant boy sharing a classroom with her. How was she going to approach him now? What could she possibly offer him once he came back as a victor?

 

* * *

 

Cornelius Lovejoy looked like he was about to have a stroke. His face and hands had been tinted a pale yellow, and his whole body vibrated with nervous energy as he addressed his audience. His voice, shrill and almost manic over the loudspeakers, made Katniss cringe.

 

“Welcome back, Citizens!” the anchor greeted. “Oh boy, do we have a treat for you tonight! All the way from our studios in the Heart of the Nation, Caesar Flickerman, Claudius Templesmith, and their panel of experts will be guiding us through every step of the final moments of the 74th Hunger Games. Are you ready?”

 

“Yes, we are!” An equally excited Tanya Larson piped in. “For those of you just tuning in, here’s our most valued Hunger Games expert, Claudius Templesmith, with a quick reminder of what happened this afternoon. Claudius?”

 

“Well, hello Tanya. Thank you for that lovely introduction!” Claudius Templesmith was calm and collected as he outlined the events of the day.

 

Katniss held Prim’s hand in hers and tried not to fidget as the commentator explained how a pack of beasts resembling huge wolves had been released into the arena.

 

The blood-thirsty mutts had immediately headed towards the area with the tall grasses which had become Thresh’s sanctuary. It hadn’t taken long for the genetically engineered animals to locate the tribute from District 11. And, according to Claudius’s commentary, it had taken even less for the animals to dismember the boy, who although big and strong, hadn’t had any real weapons to defend himself.

 

“And now, let’s go back to the arena,” Claudius said.

 

With Thresh out of the way, the mutts went looking for their next victim.

 

The screen split in two, providing a simultaneous view of both remaining tributes.

 

Every muscle in Katniss’s body tensed as she saw the location of the two tributes on the map. They weren’t too far from each other. Under normal circumstances, their paths wouldn’t have crossed. But there was nothing normal about anything at this point.

 

The mutts found Cato first.

 

The tribute from District 2 had been exploring the area near the stream when he heard the beasts howling. Alerted by the sound, he began running back to the Cornucopia.

 

The wolves were hot on his heels, but the career was in excellent shape. He ran fast and hard with the pack trailing behind him.

 

On the other half of the screen, Peeta stood still. His eyes widened in terror as he heard the beasts’ call. He looked around as he tried to figure out where he was.

 

It didn’t take long for him to realize he had two choices, he could go back to his cave or rush towards the Cornucopia.

 

He ran.

 

Prim pointed at the map. “He’s running towards the Cornucopia!” she exclaimed.

 

Katniss watched, petrified in horror, as she realized Cato and the mutts were headed in the same direction.

 

Agonizing minutes went by as the two tributes ran towards the building which would shield them from the creatures who wanted them dead.

 

Peeta was ahead of the group, but not by much. Cato and the angry mutts followed close behind.

 

Peeta had just reached the top of the building when Cato caught up to him. The career grabbed the neck of Peeta’s jacket and pulled.

 

The metal structure resounded loudly as Peeta landed on his back. Quickly, he turned on his side, reached out for Cato’s leg and pulled. Caught by surprise, the career fell next to him.

 

Katniss watched. She hardly blinked as the two tributes wrestled at the top of the Cornucopia.

 

The mutts waited.

 

Cato was on top of Peeta, a smug smile danced on his chapped lips as he pressed his hands into Peeta’s chest.

 

“Say ‘Goodbye,' Twelve,” he said.

 

Katniss’s chest tightened. Peeta closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Tears welled in her eyes as she saw the color draining from his face.

 

Suddenly, Peeta twisted his body. Using the last of his strength, he placed his hands on his opponent’s arms and pushed.

 

Cato fell backward, hitting his head hard against the metal floor. His arm dangled off the side of the Cornucopia. He didn’t move.

 

The mutts, thirsty for blood, began jumping against the side of the building. Each attempt brought them closer to Cato’s hand.

 

On the other side of the building, Peeta coughed and wheezed as he tried to catch his breath.

 

The biggest mutt reached Cato’s hand and pulled.

 

The unconscious tribute from District 2 tumbled to the ground where 22 genetically engineered wolves were waiting for him.

 

It didn’t take long for Cato’s cannon to go off.

 

The 74th Hunger Game was over.

 

Peeta Mellark collapsed in a heap on the metal floor, despair and exhaustion finally taking over his battered body.

 

On the other side of the country, huddled in front of a rickety television, a drained Katniss Everdeen wept.

 

Big, fat tears loaded with relief washed over her face. It had been a long, horrible ride, but the boy who had given her the gift of hope had survived.

 

A shy smile settled on Katniss’s wet lips. Peeta Mellark was coming home.

 


	8. The Tribute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank the beautiful AlwaysEverlark for pre-reading and making a few suggestions. Thanks P, hope you like the finished product :)
> 
> As some of you already know, this chapter is a bit different. We're finally going to hear Peeta's POV!  
> Hope you like it!

The smooth golden pin was heavy in Peeta’s hand. He turned it around in his palm. It was a bird frozen in mid-flight, trapped in a hoop.

 

Peeta sighed, he knew exactly what that felt like.

 

He turned to face his cousin. “Madge, I can’t--,”

 

“Yes, you can,” Madge interrupted.

 

Unlike some of his other visitors, Madge wasn’t teary-eyed or upset. The quiet, gentle girl was as determined as he’d ever seen her.

 

“You’re going to take it, and you’re going to wear it,” she said. “Everybody needs a token, Peeta.”

 

He nodded. There was no point arguing with her, not when this was likely to be the last conversation they ever had.

 

Seemingly satisfied, Madge leaned in and kissed his cheek.

 

With a sad smile, she turned to leave. She was almost at the door when she spoke once more, “Oh! And one more thing, make sure he sees it.” 

 

“He?”

 

Madge’s blue eyes narrowed. “Abernathy. Make sure he sees the pin.”

 

A moment later, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

Peeta stepped out into the hallway. The crowd assembled in the main hall caught him by surprise. He could feel their greedy eyes inspecting him, eager to take one last look at the boy who was about to be sent to his death.

 

He had spent the last hour saying ‘goodbye.' The parade of dejected friends and family members who had visited him with tear stained cheeks and shaky hands had left him feeling hollow and dispirited. He couldn’t wait to leave them all behind.

 

He lowered his eyes to the ground and waited for the peacekeepers to start issuing instructions.

 

Suddenly, he heard it. A faint noise. Something between a sigh and a quiet sob escaping someone’s lips.

 

Peeta turned towards the sound and found her. Katniss Everdeen.

 

The taciturn Seam girl was a bit of a celebrity among Peeta’s classmates. At 16, Katniss was already one of the best traders in the district. Her skill with a bow and arrow was almost legendary, and everyone knew she dealt fairly with both Seam and merchant folk.

 

What most people didn’t know, but Peeta couldn’t forget, was that Katniss’s voice was as sweet and pure as dew drops on a spring morning. Or that she had wilted like a flower left unattended in an empty vase after her father’s death.

 

He remembered finding her one awful day, huddled under the apple tree in his backyard as cold raindrops pelted her sallow skin. Her gray eyes, dull and lost under the weight of hunger and grief, had reflected the depth of her despair.

 

Peeta had fed her that day. Without even thinking, he had thrown two loaves into the embers making sure only the crusts were burnt, and he had given them to her.

 

His mother hadn’t been pleased. But Peeta didn’t care. Katniss needed that bread far more than he did. He refused to stand by and watch as she wasted away into nothingness.

 

Maybe that made him weak like his mother said. But, in his mind, it only made him decent. And, in Peeta’s book, being decent was far more important than being strong.

 

Years went by. Peeta never spoke to the elusive girl with the silvery voice. He wanted to, but Katniss wasn’t exactly sociable, and he didn’t want her to feel obligated because he’d given her the bread.

 

He had kept an eye on her, though, watching her progress through the years; forever intrigued by the delicate curve of her lips, her graceful movements, her fierce scowls.

 

In all the years of watching and waiting Peeta had never seen Katniss corresponding to his interest in any way. So he was genuinely surprised to find her, standing right in front of his doorway, and looking straight into his eyes.

 

Startled, he held his breath and, for the first time in his life, refused to look away.

 

Trapped in Katniss’s gaze, the whole world disappeared. For a moment, there were no more peacekeepers, no Capitol officials, no crowds. There was nothing except for Katniss and her deep gray eyes calling out to him, inviting him to run towards the light at the end of a dark tunnel.

 

A sudden warmth spread through Peeta’s chest and reached every bit of his being.

 

Katniss’s gaze, insistent and demanding, felt like a caress which danced over his skin and reached deep into his soul.

 

Like a lost child, he held onto her, desperate for one last connection before leaving his town, his home.

 

A few steps down the hallway, Tessa’s door opened. A peacekeeper stepped out of the girl’s room.

 

Peeta didn’t move a muscle.

 

The fog of confusion, despair, and self-pity he’d been walking under since Effie Trinket had read his name was beginning to lift.

 

As Peeta’s mind settled, one thing became clear. Unlike the others, Katniss hadn’t stopped by to pat his shoulder and commiserate with his bad luck. She wasn’t there to beg or cry. 

 

Katniss had gone there to ask, to demand actually, what no one else had dared say. 

 

In the crowded room, her silent message reached only him. Two words --repeated insistently-- matched the beat of Peeta’s heart. “Come back, come back, come back…”

 

Peeta straightened his stance and squared his shoulders. He locked his jaw, and nodded, just once.

 

Katniss smiled.

 

Outside, peacekeepers were issuing instructions.

 

The train station’s whistle rang.

 

Peeta turned towards the exit, following his peacekeeper’s lead and effectively ending his silent conversation with Katniss.

 

Visiting hours were over. It was time to go.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Peeta Mellark learned about Haymitch Abernathy, was that the old victor’s reputation as a drunkard was well deserved.

 

The man had spent the past 23 years of his life taking tributes to the Capitol and coming back empty-handed. Peeta wondered whether Haymitch had begun drinking to forget his tributes’ deaths, or whether the tributes had died because the victor had lost track of them in his drunken stupor.

 

Either way, Peeta’s career as tribute didn’t look very promising.

 

The first dinner on the train was a quiet affair. Effie Trinket sat on the far end of the table and wrinkled her nose in disgust as she pretended to be someplace else.

 

Tessa sat stoically across from Peeta and ladled spoonfuls of food onto her plate. Even though she was trying to come across as aloof and detached, he could see her anxiety reflected in her Seam gray eyes.

 

A cold shiver ran along Peeta’s spine as he tried to put himself in Tessa’s shoes. She looked like every other tribute from their district, small, weak, and scared. She was probably counting down the heartbeats she had left in her ticker.

 

He wanted to say something to make her feel better, maybe let her know she wasn't as alone as she thought. But they had never spoken to each other before. In fact, he didn't even remember seeing her around town. He knew nothing about her, so what could he possibly say that would ease her anguish and her pain?

 

They were on the same train, bound for the same horrible place. Peeta had no more expectations of surviving the arena than Tessa did but, somehow, he didn't think any of that mattered.

 

The fact that he was bigger and better fed gave him a physical advantage neither one of them could ignore. And pretending they weren't on opposing sides of a cruel competition wasn't going to help them either.

 

They had almost finished eating when Haymitch Abernathy decided to break the silence.

 

He had been seating at the head of the table, quietly sipping his liquid dinner from the small silver flask he kept tightly clutched in his fist, apparently lost in thought. His eyes, unfocused and bleary, danced around the room never stopping for long on anything specific until they landed on Peeta’s lapel.

 

“Where did you get that, Boy?” he slurred.

 

Surprised, Peeta faced his mentor. “Sorry, sir?”

 

The victor straightened in his seat and waved his hand in dismissal of Peeta's words. “Forget about that “sir” crap, Kid. The pin. Where did you get it?” Haymitch demanded, pointing at the golden bird.

 

Peeta's hand flew to his chest, his fingers traced the brooch’s delicate lines.  “It's my token. My cousin gave it to me,” he answered.

 

“Your cousin?” Haymitch drawled.

 

Peeta froze under Haymitch's inspecting gaze. He felt like a bug stuck under a magnifying glass. Swallowing the knot of nerves in his throat, he answered, “Yes.”

 

“And this cousin of yours is…” the mentor prompted.

 

“Um, her name’s Madge. Madge Undersee.”

 

Haymitch's eyes narrowed. “Undersee? As in Mayor Undersee?”

 

Peeta nodded.

 

“I see,” Haymitch mumbled.

 

Silence wrapped around them once again.

 

Peeta turned to face Tessa, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. Her delicate features hardened under his gaze.

 

Tessa’s hopes and dreams of a life and a future were being shattered right in front of his eyes. Peeta could see her pain and heartbreak written all over her face.

 

He wanted to apologize, to explain that he hadn't asked for any preferential treatment, that he didn't want it and didn't deserve it. He didn't even know what the token meant, he was just wearing it to keep his promise to Madge. But it was pointless, the damage had been done. There was nothing he could say or do to make things better. So, once again, he kept quiet.

 

The air in the room was thick with resentment, fear, and guilt as the district partners waited for their mentor to speak.

 

Eventually, Haymitch let out a loud huff and shook his head. He brought the flask back to his lips and took a long pull, draining the remaining contents in one long gulp. “Looks like dinner’s over,” he said, shaking the empty bottle in front of his face.

 

Clumsily, he stood up from his seat, stumbled to the door and left the room.

 

“Well, how delightful,” Effie Trinket deadpanned. Her high-pitched voice made Peeta cringe. “Another fabulous evening with the victor of the second Quarter Quell.”

 

Peeta sighed and focused on finishing his food. He couldn't wait to go back to his room. He needed time to think. Maybe, once his thoughts had settled down, he’d be able to figure out what the story behind his token was and why Madge had thought it was a good idea to give it to him.

 

He still hadn't decided whether Haymitch's reaction had been good or bad. But he comforted himself thinking that at least he wasn’t being ignored anymore.

 

* * *

 

“So, are we still wearing matching outfits tonight?” Peeta asked.

 

It had been a long week, he was tired and stressed. The prospect of spending his last night in the Capitol talking to Caesar Flickerman on national television made him nauseous.

 

Portia, his stylist, inspected his reflection in the mirror and smiled. “Yes,” she confirmed, “you’ve been acting as a team all week long. We just need you to keep up the illusion a little bit longer.”

 

Peeta nodded.

 

As soon as the tribute train had arrived in the Capitol, Portia and her partner, Cinna, had taken over. Haymitch and Effie had still played their part, discussing strategy, answering questions, and making sure the tributes stuck to their scheduled activities. But it was the stylists who had come up with a plan to make the tributes from the poorest district appear stronger than they were. They had presented them as a team, which meant that Tessa and Peeta had to spend all their time together.

 

Tessa had been reluctant at first. She already resented Haymitch for ignoring her in favor of Peeta, and she didn’t understand how pretending to be part of a team was going to help her case. But Cinna’s explanations and Peeta’s willingness to play along had convinced her to at least give it a try.

 

What had really sealed the deal, though, was the spectacular presentation the stylists had prepared for the opening ceremony. 

 

Showing up at the City Circle surrounded by flames had turned them into instant celebrities. According to the TV anchors, Tessa’s poise, Peeta’s solid frame, and their stunning entrance had become the most popular topics of conversation among Capitolites. Even Claudius Templesmith had spent a substantial part of his show dissecting every aspect of the team’s intriguing alliance.

 

For the first time in years, people were talking about the tributes of District 12. And while doing well in the Capitol had nothing to do with doing well inside the arena, being popular and securing sponsors was just as important as learning a new skill.

 

So Peeta and Tessa followed the stylists’ instructions. They showed up at the training center wearing matching outfits every morning, took turns choosing the training stations they used and, when possible, they practiced their newly acquired skills on one another. At lunchtime, they sat at the same table and talked amiably while most of their competitors ate alone, casting wary glances in their direction.

 

By the end of the week, both tributes were exhausted. The stress of having the arena looming over their heads all the time was wearing them down, but there was one more hurdle they needed to overcome before leaving the Capitol for good.

 

Caesar Flickerman greeted his audience, his electric blue wig shimmered under the bright lights.

 

Inside the studio, spectators fidgeted while the presenter made what, he thought, were witty remarks about the newest crop of chosen tributes.

 

“It’s time to bring them in!” Caesar announced, “Miss Glimmer Stanton, from District 1, please come join me!”

 

The voluptuous blonde pranced onto the stage.

 

The audience erupted in applause.

 

Backstage, Peeta and Tessa waited for their turn to come up.

 

Minutes turned into hours. The long line of sparkling tributes standing ahead made Peeta dizzy.

 

Tributes weren’t allowed to talk to each other while they waited, so everyone was forced to stand and watch, riddled with anxiety, while a seemingly endless line of competitors took their place on the stage.

 

Some tributes smiled, others bragged, a few of them even cried. They all vanished in the darkened upstage once their three minutes in the spotlight were done.

 

“Last, but not least,” Caesar intoned, “it’s time to welcome the tributes from District 12!”

 

At Caesar’s request, Tessa twirled. The hem of her dress came to life, glowing like a bonfire around her calves.

 

The crowds went mad.

 

Peeta pulled his eyes away from the stage as a deep sadness settled on his chest.

 

He liked Tessa. In spite of his better judgment, he had come to consider her a friend. But he knew she was just as doomed as he was.

 

He still hoped, though, with every fiber of his being, that someone out there would be smitten enough with the lovely girl to sponsor her. Having outside help wouldn't guarantee her survival, but it might make her last days a bit more bearable.

 

Caesar’s words cut through Peeta’s thoughts. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the last tribute of the night. Please welcome, all the way from District 12, Mr. Peeta Mellark!”

 

Peeta closed his eyes for an instant. For the hundredth time in the last few days, his mind conjured up the memory of Katniss’s pleading eyes looking deep into his soul.

 

The recollection was as soothing as the actual event had been, and he held onto it for the few seconds it took for the applause in the studio to die down.

 

A production assistant pulled gently on Peeta's sleeve.  “You’re on,” he whispered.

 

Peeta nodded. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes and squared his shoulders. It was his turn to shine.

 

* * *

 

Being in the arena was nothing like Peeta had expected.

 

The gore and brutality of the bloodbath had rattled him. And, even if his strategy of running away as quickly as possible had spared him from witnessing what had probably been the worst of it, he would never forget the agonized screams he’d heard as he ran through the forest looking for shelter.

 

He had spent his entire life watching the Games on TV, and he had never seen the arenas as real places. Having maps displayed on the screen at all times reinforced the notion that these stages had been created with one particular purpose in mind. But things looked a lot differently once you were actually trapped in one.

 

He had expected the place to feel foreign and artificial, but it didn’t. Maybe it was because he wasn't a great outdoorsman --he had never snuck under the fence which separated his town from the woods-- but he couldn’t find any evident differences between the forest surrounding his district and this place.

 

The textures and color of the trees, the smells, even the sounds of nature were just like the ones he remembered from back home. He was surprised by how comforting it was to hear the soft trickle of water from the lake or the hoot of a distant owl after nightfall.

 

He filled his first days with simple activities designed to keep his body busy and his mind sharp. But he couldn’t help the cold chill which ran along his back every time a cannon went off in the distance. He was always left shivering, drenched in a cold, anxious sweat as he half expected his own blast to be the next to ring through the forest.

 

Every night, as the sky reflected back images of the fallen ones, he tried to recall their names and anything he might have learned about them while they were in training. The fact that they had ceased to exist while he was still alive weighed heavily on him, and he refused to forget that even if he wasn’t the one doing the killing he was still benefiting from it.

 

He sometimes wondered what his mother would think of his strategy. Would she commend him for keeping out of trouble and staying safe? Or would she see him as a coward? A spineless creature who hid and waited for others to die.

 

One morning, he woke up to the joyful realization that it didn’t matter anymore. There, in that beautiful, terrible place where every minute could be his last, his mother’s opinion no longer mattered.

 

 _My time will come soon enough_ , he reasoned, _the game makers won’t let me hide forever. Why would I waste what little time I have left worrying about my mother and her petty resentments?_

 

He honestly believed he had given up, that he’d accepted his imminent death, but the fire raining from the sky rekindled his desire to live. And, once his instincts took over, there was nothing he could do but run.

 

Later, as he trembled under a bush and dreamed of Katniss’s smoky eyes, he wondered whether he had been killed by a blast and didn’t know it yet.

 

* * *

 

Peeta liked Rue.

 

The twelve-year-old girl was funny, resourceful, and smart. She taught Peeta how to treat his wounds and laughed at his jokes. Time seemed to fly by while she was by his side.

 

They were making their way back to his camp one morning when, suddenly, Rue began to laugh.

 

Baffled, Peeta looked at her.

 

His shocked expression only made the girl laugh harder. What had started as a giggle, soon turned into a full belly chuckle.

 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, as he began laughing himself.

 

After a few calming breaths Rue explained, “Has anyone ever told you how loud you are?”

 

“Loud?” he exclaimed. The sound of his own voice startled him. He smiled. A moment later his eyes narrowed. “But I wasn’t even talking!” he whispered.

 

Rue grinned. “I didn’t mean your voice!” Pointing to his feet, she added, “Your tread is as noisy as a tractor’s.”

 

Wide-eyed, Peeta asked, “It is?”

 

“Yeah. No one’s ever told you before? It’s pretty evident.”

 

“Well, no. But I’ve never been out in the forest before. I guess people don’t notice these things when you’re walking around town,” he mused.

 

“Probably not,” she agreed, “but we’re not in town anymore,” she reminded him with a pointed look.

 

“You’re right. What can I do, though?”

 

“Just try stepping wherever I step,” she suggested, “it won’t be perfect, but it might be better.”

 

“Alright, lead the way,” he said gesturing to the path ahead of them with his open hand.

 

The system hadn’t really worked. As much as he tried, Peeta seemed determined to crush all the dry leaves and branches on his path. Almost every step he took made him cringe, worried that his noisy movements might attract some unwanted attention.

 

The only thing that eased his apprehension was the sight of Rue’s slight shoulders shaking as she unsuccessfully tried to keep her laughter under control.

 

* * *

 

Rue was dying.

 

Peeta’s eyes filled with tears as the small girl who had helped him heal slowly bled in his arms.

 

She had been foraging when the career from District 1 found her. The boy had wasted no time throwing his spear at her.

 

Peeta had heard the young girl’s cries and rushed to where she was. He found her laying on the floor, clutching her stomach as the boy from One clumsily tried to remove the spear which was still lodged in the girl’s torso.

 

Blinding hot rage spread through Peeta’s body. Without even pausing, he flung himself at the boy.

 

What happened next was a hazy blur. There had been punching and screaming, yelling and kicking. Ultimately, a neck had cracked, and a boy had died.

 

Peeta cradled Rue’s small frame in his lap as fat tears he couldn’t contain rolled down his cheeks.

 

“Tell me something happy,” she asked.

 

Peeta sniffled. With the steadiest voice he could manage, he said, “There’s a place called the Meadow back home. It’s not much to look at, just a little bit of grass and some trees where people like to run around. But, come springtime, the whole field turns yellow. Dandelions start sprouting up all over the place turning it into a field of gold.”

 

Rue’s teary eyes locked with his. Her voice was barely a whisper as she said, “You know you still have a chance, don't you?”

 

“A chance?”

 

“Yeah, Peeta. You have to go back there,” she insisted.

 

“Where?” His forehead creased in confusion as he tried to understand what Rue was saying. “The Meadow?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Rue nodded. She was looking very pale all of a sudden, her body temperature was dropping quickly.

 

Peeta tightened his hold on her as he desperately tried to keep her warm.

 

Her chapped lips parted once more, and she whispered, “Promise me. Promise you'll try.”

 

“I promise, Rue,” he vowed.

 

A moment later, Rue went limp in his arms. He didn’t need to hear the cannon blast to know she was gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter didn't cover any new ground. But I thought it was important to show some of the things Peeta went through. I hope I answered a few questions for some of you. Let me know what you think :) 
> 
> Oh! One more thing, CH9 is ready! I'll be posting it on Sunday. Get ready for some Everlark goodness!


	9. The Victor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday, Everyone!

 

The first few weeks outside the arena were a whirlwind of emotions and events.

 

Peeta only spent a few days in the hospital.

 

Besides a couple of broken ribs and a few cuts and bruises, he hadn’t sustained any severe injuries.

 

The elite team of Capitol doctors recruited by the game makers had looked bored, and even slightly disappointed, as they diagnosed his case.

 

As soon as he’d been released from the clinic, he’d been thrown into a seemingly endless parade of events. Days turned into nights as two weeks’ worth of interviews and presentations passed him by.

 

Thinking back, it was hard to distinguish one event from another. The repetitive comments of his adoring fans and sycophantic newscasters had a tendency to blur in his mind.

 

But, among all those hazy memories, there was one moment Peeta knew he would never forget.

 

Somehow, Peeta had just managed to watch the full recap of the 74th Hunger Games in front of a live audience without having a meltdown.

 

After, once the images of bloodied children had floated away from the screen, President Snow had gotten up on the stage and placed a golden crown on Peeta's head.

 

The young victor’s heart beat madly in his chest as the aging president pulled him into a tight hug.

 

The old man reeked of roses and freshly spilled blood.

 

Resisting the urge to hurl his dinner right then and there, Peeta pulled away slightly and looked into the president’s eyes. The coldness he found in the snake-like orbs chilled his blood.

 

“Congratulations, my boy,” President Snow said. His thin lips turned up in a grotesque smirk.

 

Peeta lowered his eyes to the ground.

 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a victor from your district,” the president added, his sibilant voice crawling under Peeta’s skin, “I hope you understand how privileged you are.”

 

“I do, Sir,” Peeta answered. His voice sounded hollow in his ears as he finished, “I’m very grateful.”

 

Seemingly satisfied, the president turned to face the audience. “People of Panem,” he announced gesturing in Peeta’s direction, “I give you the winner of the 74th Hunger Games. Please welcome our new victor, Peeta Mellark!”

 

* * *

 

District 12’s train station was small and dusty. Peeta had never thought of it that way before, but now, after having spent a month in the Capitol, he could see it for what it truly was; the entryway to the poorest, smallest, most neglected district in the country.

 

But, shabby and unkempt as the station and its district were, Peeta was still thrilled to be back. His whole body hummed with anxious energy as he waited for the station doors to open and welcome him back home.

 

As soon as he walked out onto the stage which had been prepared for him, he knew that nothing would ever be the same.

 

The Capitol crowds which had surrounded him had been loud and rowdy. But District 12 welcomed him with a silent reverence he’d never experienced before.

 

It wasn’t that they weren’t happy to see him, he could see the joy reflected on their faces, it was more like they saw him as something different, unexpected, surprising, and they just didn’t know how to react in front of him.

 

Effie’s voice, loud and shrill over the train station’s PA system made Peeta flinch.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the extravagant escort announced, “I’ve brought back your victor, Peeta Mellark!”.

 

A loud round of enthusiastic claps and cheers exploded on the square.

 

Peeta lowered his eyes to the ground, suddenly overwhelmed by his district’s exuberance.

 

After a couple of minutes, the applause died down, the victor turned his eyes to the crowd. “Thank you all for being here to welcome me,” he said, “I hope I made you proud.”

 

A new round of applause erupted in the square, people yelled loud assurances into the sky.

 

Peeta smiled, cleared his throat and announced, “Let the celebration begin!”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for Peeta to learn that, contrary to what most people believed, a victor’s daily life wasn't glamorous and exciting.

 

Despite being minors, victors weren't allowed to go back to school to finish their education. They weren’t authorized to have jobs, and they couldn’t break free from the Capitol’s constant interference in their lives.

 

According to the bylaws established by Panem’s elders, victors had to devote their lives to the service of their country. Every year they were carted off to the Capitol so they could participate in any and all activities related to the Games. They had to act as representatives for their districts, striking deals with potential sponsors, and as mentors advising the tributes by using the expertise gained through their own experiences in the arena.

 

In the Capitol, victors were revered and celebrated. They were paraded and ogled at as exotic creatures who had accomplished great feats. But, in the districts, they were ignored. Left to their own devices to figure out what their lives meant while everyone else moved on with their day.

 

Or, at least, that’s what it was like in District 12.

 

Peeta shook his head, feeling sorry for himself was a newly acquired habit which was leading him nowhere. Just because the victors in his district lived like castaways, alone and forgotten in their empty Victors’ Village, it didn’t mean everyone else did.

 

Being a victor in a career district was probably a lot of fun, what with all the illegal training and prepping they did all year round.

 

The truth was that he had no idea what life was like for other victors. Other than Haymitch, who spent his days glued to the narrow end of a liquor bottle, he hadn’t met a single one. But he knew what it was like for him, and the cold reality which greeted him every morning broke his heart.

 

The friends he’d once known, the boys and girls who had laughed and played with him for as long as he could remember had gone back to their lives as soon as his welcome back party was over. He had seen them walking away from the square, smiling and laughing the afternoon away as he had to stay behind, with Effie Trinket in tow, and talk to the reporters who had come all the way down from the Capitol to record the happy occasion.

 

Later, once the intruders had left, he’d asked his family to share in his good fortune and move in with him to his house in Victors’ Village. “There’s more than enough space for all of us,” he’d said, proud and eager to share something so precious with his family.

 

They had turned him down on the spot.

 

“Pointless” was the word his mother used to reject her youngest son's gracious offer.

 

Mrs. Mellark's refusal hadn’t really surprised him. She did have a point, after all. Running a bakery without living on the premises wasn’t very practical.

 

But Peeta had expected more from the others. Some sort of recognition of the fact that he’d genuinely wanted to be with them. That he hadn’t offered because he felt obligated, but because he honestly wanted them there.

 

So, Peeta Mellark, 74th victor of the Hunger Games, picked up the pieces of his shattered pride and went home to face the dark dreams and the gut-wrenching fear he felt every time he closed his eyes. Alone.

 

* * *

 

Peeta woke up with a start.

 

His mouth was dry, his heart racing.

 

He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes as he tried to control his breathing. Slowly, the gory images of his nightmare faded away, leaving him frazzled and spent.

 

He turned towards the open window. A cold gust of breeze kissed his cheeks and made him shiver.

 

The pale moonlight illuminated his room making the walls shine like silver, the dancing shadows of the trees moving outside made them shimmer like mirrors. In his half-asleep state, Peeta almost expected to see his reflection, but it was the insistent glow of Katniss’s eyes that looked back at him instead.

 

Peeta let out a tired sigh.

 

He had been back for a month. He had moved into a new house and started a new life. But old habits die hard and, even though his path hardly ever crossed with Katniss’s now that he wasn’t in school anymore, he still hadn’t managed to put her out of his mind.

 

Every day, his brain would find a connection to the huntress and torment him with it.

 

It could be anything, from the song of a bird to a gust of wind announcing the approach of a storm. But it never failed. And the fact that he still hadn’t spoken to her made him feel like a failure.

 

The truth was that, after everything that had happened, he still didn’t know what to say to Katniss.

 

He didn't have the words to explain what her visit to the Justice Building had meant to him. And he couldn't tell her about the years he’d spent wanting to approach her or about the hours he’d devoted to watching her at school without sounding like a creep.

 

And what would Katniss think if she ever found out about the meters of recycled construction paper he’d filled with images of her eyes, her braid, her hands or her lips?

 

She’d probably think he was crazy. And she’d be right.

 

Besides, he was a victor now, burdened with responsibilities and bad dreams. Why would she ever want to be a part of something like that?

 

He would never drag her into that kind of life.

 

Katniss Everdeen deserved to be happy. And right now, he couldn’t see how he could be any part of that.

 

* * *

 

Peeta sipped his bitter tea and looked around. The tall maple trees surrounding his house sparkled under the early morning sun, their leaves having turned golden overnight.

 

He smiled, thinking about the beauty autumn always brought along with it.

 

It had been almost two months since he’d gotten back. And, although his life wasn’t all he had wished for, things weren’t looking so gloomy anymore.

 

Following Effie’s advice, he had chosen a talent.

 

Looking through the catalog of options available to him had been an eye-opener, a reminder of exactly what the Capitol expected from him now that he was working for them.

 

Talents were designed to keep the victors busy and the audiences entertained. Some of the activities could be considered more useful than others. But even the most sensible ones, like cooking or sewing, were only supposed to be practiced using extravagant ingredients or designs.

 

Still, Peeta looked dutifully through the pages of the thick catalog until he found a couple of things which caught his eye.

 

It wasn’t hard for him to choose painting. He’d always had an eye for beauty and, even as a child, he’d always been interested in colors and shapes. Growing up, he’d never had access to any real painting supplies, but he’d used colored chalk and pencils whenever he could get his hands on them.

 

Frosting cakes had been the only real way in which he could explore his passion for art, but he hadn't been doing much of that since becoming a victor.

 

The second thing which appealed to him was gardening. But he refused to do it in the way the Capitol suggested, only planting certain types of plants or flowers which had to be delivered from the Capitol’s plant nurseries. So he decided to save this particular talent for his personal entertainment. After all, long days which blended into sleepless nights had to be filled with some sort of activity, and he still wasn’t ready to empty liquor bottles for a living.

 

Trying to mend his relationship with his family, he decided to offer them his services as a cake decorator.

 

The terms of the deal stated that he would only help out when they had a special order, and he wouldn’t get paid for his work. This meant that, if anyone from the Capitol ever found out about the arrangement, he could just claim to be practicing his talent with what Effie had described as an “edible medium.” 

 

His offer was accepted and, a few days later, he received the first message requesting his services. Apparently, his mother hadn’t been joking around when she’d very stiffly announced that they’d “let him know when he was needed.”

 

A small part of him had actually feared they’d never call. But he knew his mother couldn't pass on an offer of free qualified labor. And, even though the old baker hadn’t said anything, Peeta sensed his dad missed having him around.

 

* * *

 

Working at the bakery, if only sporadically, provided Peeta with a sense of normalcy his life had been lacking since he’d been reaped.

 

As much as he loved painting, there was no place where he felt more like his old self than in his family’s kitchen. After all, that’s where he’d spent most of his time up until he’d been taken away.

 

One added benefit of working at the bakery was spending time with his brothers on a regular basis.

 

The truth was that Bran and Rye had been thrilled to welcome him back after the Game. They’d been the first in line at the train station when he arrived, and they’d even spent some time getting to know Effie Trinket and her Capitol entourage as a show of solidarity with their baby brother.

 

Sadly, rejecting Peeta’s housing offer had driven a wedge between the brothers. It wasn’t so much that Peeta resented his brothers’ decision to stay in town. It was more about the brothers feeling guilty for keeping quiet and not standing up to their mother.

 

But seeing each other regularly, and sharing the jokes and chores of the past began closing the gap which Peeta’s reaping had opened.

 

Peeta’s brothers never asked about his responsibilities as a victor, or about the lonely nights he spent in his luxurious home. But he didn’t begrudge them for it. He didn’t want to discuss his night terrors and anxiety attacks any more than they did.

 

* * *

 

It was a Friday afternoon.

 

Peeta was at the bakery, sitting at his usual place on the worktable. The sound of wood crackling under the flames of the oven filled the air.

 

The young victor hummed quietly to himself as he worked on a birthday cake for the station agent's daughter. It was a two-tier confection covered in frosted apple blossoms —which, apparently, were the girl's favorite bloom.

 

He was inspecting his handiwork, making sure all the flowers had been evenly distributed, when he heard a familiar sequence of short taps playing against the windowpane.

 

Peeta froze, suddenly trapped in a different lifetime.

 

A barrage of memories rushed to the front of his mind.

 

There were happy summer feasts; lazy, warm days spent in the backyard eating roasted squirrels which had been shot “straight through the eye.”

 

Cold winter days hiding in the back room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the huntress who no longer needed his help to survive.

 

Endless sleepless nights; lost, as he tried to find the right words to trace a path into a brave girl’s heart.

 

They all came back to him at once, like an overwhelming avalanche of feelings punching him in the gut.

 

He closed his eyes and tried to reel them in, to lock them back inside.

 

Peeta's head was still spinning when he heard Mr. Mellark rushing to answer the call.

 

The old baker opened the door and stepped out. A capricious gust of autumn wind carried bits and pieces of his hushed conversation into the room.

 

Fragments of laughter and small words like “good”, “maybe” and “next” reached Peeta through the open window.

 

He took a deep breath, the cold wind hit his lungs, soothing his anxiety away.

 

A moment later, the door opened again.

 

The baker walked back into the room. “She drives a hard bargain, that one,” he grumbled, “but she’s still the best in town."

 

Peeta looked at his father and smiled. “Right through the eye. Right, dad?” he asked, pointing at the dead squirrel which dangled from his father's hand.

 

The old man chuckled. “Yes, son. Every single time."

 

Amused, Peeta shook his head, he didn’t know how many times he’d had that conversation with this father. He couldn't really remember when they'd had it last.

 

He was about to resume his work when one more memory resurfaced from the depths of his mind.

 

_Reaping day!_

 

Without another word, Peeta sprang from his seat and headed towards the door; almost trampling over a startled Mr. Mellark who practically had to leap to get out of his son's way.

 

Ignoring his father's complaints, Peeta pushed the door open and ran across the backyard.

 

As soon as he stepped onto the back street, he saw her.

 

Katniss.

 

She had almost reached the end of the block, and she wasn’t stopping.

 

The idea of her turning the corner and disappearing sent a shiver down Peeta’s spine. He refused to let her go. He had already waited too long, and he wasn’t willing to waste any more time.

 

Peeta's heartbeat pounded madly in his ears as he called out, “Katniss! Do you have a minute?”

 

* * *

 

Katniss stopped in her tracks, frozen, a deer caught in the crosshairs.

 

She recognized the voice. She had heard it before, many times in fact. By now, it was as familiar to her as the song of the scarlet tanager or the whisper of the wind through the trees.

 

She had heard it in school joking around amiably as others joined in and through the TV speakers at home as it whispered happy stories to a terrified girl who missed her family.

 

Most recently, she’d heard it in her dreams, warm and sweet, echoing inside her chest, reminding her that its owner was alive and well.

 

Slowly, Katniss turned around. Her body, heavy as lead, kept her rooted to her spot.

 

Reflexively, she scowled. Her mouth had gone dry, and she was pretty sure she had just swallowed her tongue, but she didn’t want to look like a crazy person, so she pushed herself to answer, “Sure.”

 

Peeta smiled. Cautiously, he made his way to where she was standing.

 

“Hi,” he said. His eyes jumped from Katniss's eyes to her lips before finally settling somewhere above her hairline. He cleared his throat and asked, “Um, how are you?”

 

Katniss eyed him warily. “Fine?” She hadn’t meant it as a question, but keeping her tone even when Peeta was standing so close to her was, apparently, not one of her skills.

 

“Good!” he mumbled, rocking in place slightly as he slipped his hands into his pant’s pockets. “So... um, I… I was wondering if… you’d be willing to trade with me?” he asked, inwardly cursing himself for how high pitched his voice sounded all of a sudden.

 

“With you?” Katniss’s eyes narrowed as she wondered why, after all those years, the baker had decided to put his youngest son in charge of the trades. “Instead of with your dad?” she asked.

 

“Oh, no,” Peeta shook his head and chuckled. “Not instead, in addition to.” Hesitantly, he lowered his gaze and, for the first time since he’d started talking, he looked directly into Katniss's face.

 

He had never been this close to her before, and he was surprised to find the gray eyes which haunted his dreams looking right back at him.

 

Time stopped for a couple of seconds as Katniss and Peeta took in every detail of each other’s features.

 

Their cheeks were flushed, their lips slightly parted as they struggled to keep their hearts contained inside their chests.

 

Anyone watching would have noticed how they mirrored each other, flustered and humming with nervous energy. But there were no witnesses in that darkened street, and they were so consumed with each other’s presence they failed to notice the reciprocity in each other’s gaze.

 

The knife sharpener’s whistle rang in the distance.

 

Katniss looked away.

 

 “Look,” Peeta started again, “as you probably know, I don’t live in town anymore. Most days I don’t even come down here, and I’m getting a bit tired of eating canned food all the time. I’d like to have something fresh every once in a while.”

 

“Fresh?”

 

“Yeah! Fresh food is better than anything they can stick into a can.”

 

Katniss pursed her lips, she glanced around nervously and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Why not go to the butcher, then?”

 

“The butcher? C’mon, Katniss!” he chuckled, “Everybody knows your wares are fresher than Rooba’s. Besides, she never has any real variety. And… you’re the only person I know who can get freshly caught fish,” he finished in a hushed, secretive voice.

 

Gooseflesh erupted all over Katniss's skin. Flustered, she blurted out, “You want fish?”

 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “Listen,” Peeta's voice took on a more serious tone, “I’ll trade with you for anything you catch. I don’t care if it flies, swims or runs. If it’s fresh, I’ll take it off your hands. I can give you coin, or we can trade goods.”

 

A door swung open a few houses down the road. The cry of its squeaky hinges caught Katniss’s attention.

 

A few seconds later, the carpenter’s 8-year-old daughter came out running through the open doorway. Her happy voice rang clearly as a silver bell as she called out that she’d be home for supper.

 

Katniss sighed, this wasn’t the best place for this conversation. She was about to say so when Peeta beat her to it.

 

“We don’t have to agree to the terms now,” he said, “In fact, why don’t you come over to my place and we’ll work out the details there?”

 

Katniss considered Peeta’s proposal for a moment. There was nothing wrong with having a new customer, especially one with enough money to buy the entire content of her satchel without blinking.

 

Her mind raced, quickly evaluating what a regular arrangement like this one could mean for her family.

 

She had never liked conducting her business out on the open street --the Merchant Quarter was full of curious eyes, and her transactions weren't exactly legal-- but she’d never been to the Victors’ Village. What could she expect from the place where only the wealthiest resided?

 

Peeta could see the wheels turning inside Katniss’s head, sensing her discomfort, he added, “Would that be ok? If you don’t want to go to the Village, that’s fine. We could meet someplace else.”

 

Katniss looked back at the baker’s son. The shy smile dancing on his lips made her heart beat faster.

 

They were back where everything had begun, she realized, just a few steps away from the bakery’s back door and the scraggly apple tree which she had used for cover on that cold, rainy afternoon.

 

Peeta had helped her once, she reminded herself, and she still owed him for it. Maybe this was what she could do to repay his kindness.

 

“Victors’ Village will be fine,” she said.

 

A happy chuckle poured from Peeta’s lips, and he nodded. “Alright!” Tilting his head in the bakery’s direction, he added, “I better get going. Those cakes aren’t gonna frost themselves, you know?”

 

Katniss nodded.

 

“So… See you tomorrow, then?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” she confirmed, “tomorrow.”

 

With one last nod, Peeta turned around and walked back towards his childhood home.

 

He had already opened the back door and was about to walk into the kitchen when he stopped to look back out onto the street.

 

Katniss’s silhouette, outlined against the pink afternoon sky, could still be seen in the distance. The way her braid bounced over her shoulder, happily matching the rhythm of her steps, made him smile.

 

A warm blast of joy burst inside Peeta's chest, expanding throughout his body and reaching down into his soul. For the first time in his life, he felt like a real winner.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finally, we are here! I’m dying to know what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> Just one more thing before I go: This story is just getting started, but I probably won’t be updating again until December. Why is that? Well, two reasons.
> 
>  
> 
> First: I’ll be busy finishing “Capitol Life”. A crossover between Everlark and The Americans. [Yes, I can hear you squealing back there ;)]
> 
> This fic will be my contribution to MoreS2SL, so it will be ready in October, but you won’t be able to read it until January. Unless you make a donation, of course ;)
> 
> Please head on over to www.ms2sl.com if you want to learn more about this beautiful cause.
> 
>  
> 
> Second: PiP is back! Yes! Only for one weekend at the end of November, but Prompts in Panem is back and I have a little canon-divergent post Mockingjay story that I’ve been dying to write for that. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	10. The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!
> 
> And... I'm back! Finally. I want to thank you for your patience. I hope you're still interested in my little story. I'll be going back to more regular updates from now on.
> 
> This chapter took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out. I hope you enjoy it.

Katniss Everdeen cursed under her breath, she was running late.

 

Exhausted and breathless she pushed herself to walk faster. This was her first visit to Victors’ Village, and she didn’t want to keep Peeta waiting.

 

Her muscles, stiff and slow, reminded her that she had barely slept the previous night, tossing and turning while her mind replayed the events of the day.

 

Her morning had been ordinary --the same endless string of tedious classes which blended into each other had filled her day--but her trip into the woods had been a productive one.

 

Gale’s snares had yielded a fat rabbit, and she had managed to shoot a couple of squirrels and a duck. It was a pretty good haul for autumn.

 

After trading at the Hob, Katniss had gone to the bakery.

 

Mr. Mellark had been his usual friendly self. He’d asked about her family and pretended to haggle only to end up giving her the customary day-old sourdough in exchange for her squirrels.

 

Tired, and eager to go home, she had turned on her heel, too distracted to notice Peeta working in the kitchen.

 

She was almost at the end of the street when her whole world had been turned upside down.

 

She still couldn’t believe Peeta Mellark had called out to her, or that her first conversation with the victor had taken place just a few steps away from the spot where he’d helped her all those years ago.

 

The sound of her name on Peeta's lips invaded her memories, sending her heart into a mad frenzy that left her in a daze.

 

When she closed her eyes, she saw his --bright and incredibly blue-- looking back at her. The hint of cinnamon she’d detected while talking to him clung to her skin, tickling her nose and making her mouth water.

 

It had all happened so fast.

 

Before Katniss even knew what was going on, Peeta had offered to start trading with her.

 

Shocked, and a bit overwhelmed by his appraisal of her skills, Katniss hardly remembered her walk back to the Seam.

 

As the enormity of Peeta's offer sunk in, one notion took over her thoughts. Before any deals could be made, she needed to clear the air. She would never feel comfortable bartering with him while she was still in his debt.

 

Katniss had already spent many sleepless nights throughout the years wondering how to repay Peeta for his kindness, but she had never found the right words. No gesture had ever seemed meaningful enough. And now, on the cusp of their potential partnership, she was just as clueless as she’d ever been.

 

Frustrated, she looked at the ceiling and scowled. She was scheduled to meet Peeta in Victors’ Village the following day. Time was running out, and she was no closer to figuring out this puzzle than she'd ever been.

 

As a victor, there wasn’t much Peeta needed. Whatever he wanted he could just buy. So, what could she offer him?

 

The solution to her predicament came suddenly; hitting her like a slap in the face and leaving her shocked and breathless under the sudden clarity it brought.

 

There was something Peeta wanted. And, according to him, she was the one person who could provide it. Granted, he was willing to pay for it; but who was to say she couldn't give it to him for free?

 

 _Just this once_ , she told herself. _As a thank you, a token of good faith between traders_.

 

The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Given their circumstances, a modest offering and a brief explanation would be a lot better than trying to come up with a grand gesture she couldn't really afford.

 

Drained, Katniss had finally fallen asleep sometime in the early hours; convinced that short, clear, and simple was the best approach.

 

XXXXX

 

Katniss climbed the few steps leading up to Peeta’s front porch. Her sweaty palms tingled nervously as she reached the front door.

 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she knocked.

 

A moment later, a familiar voice called out, “Coming!”

 

Katniss’s heartbeat picked up speed. Nervous, she tried to dry her clammy hands with the soft cotton of her pants.

 

The door swung open.

 

A gust of hot air spilled from the heated house enveloping Katniss in its warm embrace. Startled, she awkwardly jumped back.

 

Peeta’s voice, deep and friendly, greeted her, “Hey, Katniss!”

 

Slightly embarrassed by her ungraceful reaction, she turned to face him.

 

He was looking straight at her with a shy smile on his lips. A mop of tousled golden waves fell over his forehead, almost touching his ocean blue eyes.

 

Not for the first time, Katniss wondered what it would be like to brush the unruly curls away from his face.

 

Annoyed with herself, Katniss cleared her throat. Her small hands reached for the strap of the hunting bag which hung across her chest. Clutching it tightly, she reminded herself to breathe.

 

She wasn’t there to touch Peeta Mellark, —or to notice the maroon sweater he wore and the way it hugged his chest, highlighting the well-defined muscles she remembered from his wrestling matches and his days in the arena— she was there to talk business.

 

Pushing herself to focus, she answered, “Hey!”

 

Peeta's smile widened. “Did you find the place alright?”

 

Unable to look away from him, she nodded.

 

“Good.” Peeta stepped out onto the front porch and closed the door behind him. Pointing to the porch swing, he asked, “Would you like to sit down?”

 

Again, Katniss nodded.

 

She reached the swing and carefully sat at the far end of the bench, resting her hunting bag on her lap and protectively wrapping her arms around it.

 

Peeta followed, lowering himself onto the seat and leaving as much space between them as possible. His eyes, bright and curious, flitted briefly in her direction before quickly turning away.

 

The gesture was so familiar it made her heart ache with an inexplicable longing for the past.

 

She drew in a breath. Cool, crisp autumn air filled her lungs instantly soothing her frayed nerves and helping her relax.

 

A moment later, Peeta leaned forward. Resting his forearms on his knees, he turned towards Katniss’s general direction and asked, “Should we talk shop then?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

His shoulders rose and fell, following the deep breath he took. “Alright,” he began, “so, this is what I’ve been thinking. We can trade for coin, or goods, whatever you prefer.”

 

Katniss considered his words. Payments in coin were always welcome but, for a girl from the Seam, wares she could consume or trade were usually better. “I’d rather take goods whenever you have them,” she answered.

 

Peeta nodded. “I figured as much.” After clearing his throat, he continued, “We could trade for regular bread but, since you already get that from my dad, I’d be happy to give you other types of baked goods; like meat pies, and buns, and such.”

 

Katniss nodded. Her mouth watered as she thought of the delicacies Peeta described. She'd only eaten meat pies made with the flour from her tesserae grain and, while filling, they hadn't been tasty. The baker’s son’s version would undoubtedly be better.

 

Peeta went on, “In a few more weeks, I’ll have some fresh vegetables. I’d be happy to trade those as well.”

 

“Fresh vegetables?” she blurted in surprise. “But it’s almost wintertime!”

 

Peeta smiled, pointing his thumb to the back of the house, he explained, “Yeah, I have a greenhouse in my backyard. Want to see?”

 

Completely overriding her brain, Katniss's mouth immediately answered, “Sure!”

 

Without wasting any time, Peeta stood up and gestured for Katniss to follow.

 

Gingerly, Katniss stepped into the victor’s house. The scent of freshly baked bread tickled her nose, and she stopped for a second, hungrily filling her lungs with the mouthwatering smell as she studied the room around her.

 

The entrance hall was warm and welcoming. A large, round mirror hung on the wall reflecting the golden light coming in through the window. Under it, a wooden console table with a rustic, unfinished look reminded her of the fallen tree logs which lay scattered on the forest floor.

 

On the table, a tall glass vase with a single maple branch brought the colors of the season into the house.

 

Wide-eyed, Katniss trailed behind the young victor; silently taking in her surroundings as he guided her through the long corridor which led to the back of the house.

 

A handful of open doors lined the hallway. Curious, Katniss sneaked a peek through them as she walked past.

 

The large luminous spaces, decorated with warm earth tones and unassuming rustic furniture, surprised her. The soft worn leather couches, sturdy tables, and elegant chairs of smooth unvarnished woods were luxurious, but they retained a modesty she hadn't expected to find in a victor’s home.

 

A quick glimpse into the kitchen made her gasp.

 

Two tall windows looked out onto the garden filling the room with natural light and casting a warm glow over the entire room.

 

She had always thought Madge’s kitchen was impressive, but compared to Peeta’s --with its stainless-steel appliances and marble countertop-- the mayor’s mansion seemed shabby and dark.

 

She briefly wondered whether her friend had ever been to Victors’ Village. Had she ever sat at that island to share a scone and a cup of tea with her cousin?

 

Peeta cleared his throat.

 

Startled, Katniss turned to him. He was standing by the door at the end of the hallway. His hand hovered over the brass doorknob as he quietly waited for her to join him.

 

A soft blush crept up her cheeks. Embarrassed by getting caught snooping, she blurted, “Do you ever get lost in here?”

 

Peeta chuckled, a low, raspy sound that made her heart flutter. “Not anymore. But I took a lot of wrong turns when I first moved here.”

 

At a loss for words, Katniss smiled and closed the distance between them.

 

Peeta turned and opened the door, showing her out to the back porch.

 

The expansive lawn which greeted her took her by surprise. There was a small lily pond to the left and a row of fruit trees encircling the yard, separating it from the rest of the world.

 

Katniss's eyes widened taking in every tree as she tried to identify all the fruits contained in the victor’s orchard. She had never seen so much variety in one place.

 

A long building ran along the back of the property. Its large glass windows and white wooden frame gleamed under the afternoon sun. It was so beautiful it took her breath away.

 

Peeta’s soft whisper brought her back to reality. “What do you think?”

 

Keeping her eyes on the building, Katniss answered, “I… I’d never seen anything like it before. It’s… gorgeous.”

 

“Want to go inside?” he offered.

 

Katniss’s face lit up. “Really?”

 

Peeta chuckled. “Yeah. Come on!”

 

Eager to keep exploring, Katniss followed Peeta.

 

He reached the wooden building and, with a theatrical flourish, held the door open for her. “After you.”

 

Katniss walked past him, focusing on the green leaves she’d spotted from the doorway and trying her best to ignore the way her body tingled at Peeta’s proximity when she crossed the threshold.

 

The air inside the greenhouse was warm and sweet. Small condensation droplets covered the glass walls and ceiling turning the streams of light into delicate rainbow beams.

 

Losing herself in the green oasis, Katniss whispered, “It's incredible.”

 

Peeta closed the door. His voice was as soft as a caress as he explained, “it's divided into two sections. The one on the right is for vegetables. I already have some tomatoes, spinach, and squash. But I also want to plant peppers and peas.”

 

Katniss took in the area Peeta had described. Green sprouts and shrubs of different shapes and sizes were already breaking through the soil. She turned to the left and frowned, the flower beds were empty. Pointing at them, she asked, “What are you growing here?”

 

“Nothing yet. I was thinking about planting some herbs. Basil, rosemary, that kind of thing.”

 

Katniss turned to face him. “Would you consider growing medicinal plants?”

 

Intrigued, Peeta raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

 

Katniss shrugged. “I don't know. Um, maidenhair fern, green amaranth, maybe some Echinacea?”

 

Peeta nodded, absentmindedly chewing on his lower lip as he considered her words. “Where could I find these plants?”

 

“I could get them for you,” she offered.

 

“Out there?” he asked, nodding to the woods.

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

“Could you bring some of the others as well?”

 

“The edible ones?”

 

Peeta nodded.

 

“Sure, I can bring anything you like.”

 

“Alright, we’ll make a list. You’ll collect as many herbs and medicinal plants as you can find, and we’ll plant them here. I’ll grow them for you and include them in our trade. Would that be ok?”

 

“Yeah,” she answered, satisfied with his terms.

 

“One more thing,” he said, “this whole plant thing is very new to me. But you seem to know a great deal. Would you consider helping me? I’d compensate you for your time, of course,” he rushed to assure her.

 

Katniss took one more look at the greenhouse, a luminous bubble of eternal spring. How could she say no to spending more time in there?

 

“We could work something out,” she said.

 

Peeta's smile was as blinding as the sun, “Great!” Looking at her hunting bag, he asked, “So, what have you got for me today?”

 

Katniss cleared her throat. It was her turn to show her wares.

 

Trying to keep her voice as steady and clear as possible, she explained, “Well, it’s Saturday today, so I have a little more than usual.”  She opened her bag and rummaged around, listing all the things she carried. “Let’s see… I have a squirrel, a rabbit, a pheasant and two trout!”

 

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive for just one day!”

 

Bashful, Katniss kept her eyes on her satchel and bit her bottom lip. She could feel her cheeks burning under his praise. “What would you like?” she whispered.

 

“Um, I’ll take a trout. Is that alright?”

 

“Yeah,” she assured him. “You can have anything you like. Why don't you take something else?”

 

Peeta thought for a moment. “I guess I could take the rabbit, I’ve been wanting to try my hand at preparing stew for a while.”

 

“Ok.”

 

Katniss walked over to the worktable where Peeta kept his tools and covered it with a thin plastic sheet. Carefully, she placed the trout and rabbit on top of it.

 

She looked at her offering. She knew it wasn't bad. There was enough food there to feed her family for the better part of a week. But she wasn't sure it covered five years of debt and silence. “Are you sure you don't want anything else?” she insisted.

 

“Yeah, that’s plenty.”

 

Katniss nodded. If Peeta didn't want to take more things, she couldn't force him.

 

“So, what would you like in exchange?” he asked, “I have spinach and mushroom pie, and I have cheese buns. I also have some apple crumble, it's from yesterday, but it's still pretty good.”

 

Katniss shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on the worktable she said, “You don’t have to give me anything for today’s game.”

 

Peeta frowned. “What? Why not?”

 

Katniss’s mouth went dry. This was the moment she’d been dreading. Her chest constricted and every muscle in her body tightened. She felt like she was about to snap, but it was too late to back down.

 

Forcing herself to look at him, she mumbled, “Because I still owe you… for the bread.”

 

Peeta’s eyes narrowed as he tried to understand what she meant. “But… I haven’t given you any…”

 

She knew the second it hit him. His whole expression changed. His eyes widened, swallowing her in their shimmering depths, and he gasped, suddenly trapped in a distant moment in what already felt like someone else’s life. 

 

“Katniss," he said, finally finding his voice, "you don’t have to pay me for that. It... it was a long time ago, and…”

 

Katniss held up her hand. Startled, Peeta stopped talking.

 

“You gave me two loaves of bread,” she said, her words strained as she tried to keep her anxiety in check. “I never thanked you for it, and I never paid you back. I know it was a long time ago, and that my offering probably doesn’t cover…”

 

Rattled, Katniss trailed off. She knew perfectly well how Peeta had paid for those loaves of bread, but she couldn’t bring herself to mention it. Shaking her head, she pushed herself to speak again. “We can’t start a trading arrangement unless we’re even.”

 

XXXXX

 

Peeta considered Katniss’s words. The fact that she remembered the incident didn’t surprise him --she had been desperate that day, and District 12’s merchants weren’t famous for giving away perfectly good food-- but, even as a kid, he’d never expected Katniss to give him anything in return. A part of him abhorred the idea of accepting some type of payment at this point.

 

Still, there was no mistaking the meaning behind her words. To trade with him, she needed to trust him; and she would never do that with the shadow of some unpaid debt hanging over her head.

 

As understanding dawned on him, he looked into her eyes. Even if he hadn’t been ready to give in, the tender plea he found in them was enough to stop him from arguing any further.

 

Resigned, he sighed. “Fine, we’ll do it your way. I won’t give you anything for today’s food. But that's it. We're even now. We’ll start trading properly the next time you come round.”

 

Katniss's eyes lit up, and she smiled. He hadn’t realized how tense she was until he saw her shoulders relax.

 

“Good,” she said.

 

Still surprised by the direction his first trade with the huntress had taken, Peeta offered his hand for her to shake.

 

A moment later, Katniss followed his lead.

 

Peeta's heart raced, amazed by how perfectly Katniss's small hand fitted inside his.

 

Before the gesture could turn awkward, he looked straight into her eyes. “We have a deal, then,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

 

Her answer was music to his ears. “We have a deal.”

 

XXXXX

 

Katniss reached the small clearing where she usually met Gale and scowled. Her hunting partner was nowhere to be found.

 

With an annoyed huff, she dropped onto the large rock which protected her from the damp earth. Cold and cranky, Katniss wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and tried to keep warm as she waited.

 

Minutes went by, and her mind wandered. She still hadn’t decided whether to tell her hunting partner about her new arrangement with Peeta, or not.

 

A part of her wanted to share the good news with him. The deal Peeta offered was far better than any they’d ever had before, and she felt like celebrating. But the mere thought of bringing Peeta up in a conversation with Gale made her chest tighten, drowning her good spirits in anxiety and dread.

 

Turning her eyes to the faraway branches of the surrounding trees, she sighed. Her warm breath turned into a puffy cloud that happily floated away as it tried to reach the sky.

 

“Hey, Catnip.”

 

Startled, Katniss turned to face Gale. His ability to walk through the forest undetected never failed to surprise her.

 

“About time,” she grumbled, scooting over so that he could sit by her side.

 

“I’m sorry," he apologized, "I was waiting for Rory.”

 

Gale slumped on the rock, frustration evident on his face as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I swear the boy thinks coming to the woods is like going on one of those vacations they show on Capitol TV.” With a shake of his head, he added, “He wanted to bring dad’s harmonica with him. Can you believe that? A harmonica, to the woods! No animal would be foolish enough to stick around that racket!”

 

Katniss chuckled. Rory was a good kid, but he was having a hard time adjusting to his new role as family provider. It wasn't that he was irresponsible, or that he was trying to shirk his duties, but merely that the 12-year old wanted to hold on to his childhood for as long as possible.

 

Katniss often wondered how the boy had managed to stay so innocent for so long. Even with Gale’s protection, District 12 was a harsh place. There wasn't much room for frivolity and fun when you grew up in the Seam.

 

Katniss glanced around. “Where is he?”

 

“I left him by the creek. He's checking the new snare line.”

 

“Do you think he's ready to reset it on his own?”

 

“Probably not,” Gale admitted, “you might have to keep an eye on him through the week.”

 

Katniss nodded. Helping with Rory’s training had always been part of their deal. He was already joining her a couple of times a week.

 

“I’ll make sure he gets it right,” she promised.

 

“Thanks, Catnip.” Gale’s hands dropped limply to his lap. His eyes focused on some distant point on the horizon, and he sighed. “I really don't know what we’d do without you,” he whispered.

 

Katniss's earlier annoyance gave way to the deep-rooted sadness she sometimes felt when she thought about Gale. Mollified, she looked at him.

 

The daring boy she’d met in the forest had already begun to lose his luster. His work at the mines took up most of his time and drained him, slowly dulling his bright, lively eyes and burying his spirit under the same layers of coal dust which clogged his pores.

 

When they were in the forest, the one place where she knew he was truly happy, the anger and frustration he kept at bay during the week spilled out of him; pouring out of his lips in a cascade of rants and insults directed towards the system which kept him trapped underground.

 

He had always been like that, angry and explosive. But his new circumstances were also turning him bitter.

 

The easy rapport they’d once shared was growing weaker under the strain of his new attitude.

 

Unwilling to join him in his diatribes, Katniss had begun to withdraw into herself, keeping her conversations centered on their hunting agreement, and avoiding most of the more personal topics she’d once shared with him.

 

It was hard, keeping her distance from him. They had spent years facing their problems together, drawing strength from one another and their friendship. But Gale was a grown up now and, for the first time since they’d met, the small age gap between them felt like an enormous chasm.

 

For her, the mines were a horrific nightmare looming on the horizon. But, for Gale, they were a reality. And, as hard as she tried, she just couldn’t share the burden he carried.

 

She sometimes wondered what it would be like to be the one stuck in a dark hole all day while her friend roamed happily out in the open, but she never dwelled on the subject for long. She’d have plenty of time to know what that was like.

 

In less than two years’ time, she’d be stuck under the ground, working alongside her friend.

 

It was in those moments, when her own fear of the mines made her more sympathetic to Gale’s plight, that she pledged to be more tolerant and supportive of her friend. Sadly, her promises to be more patient and understanding quickly crumbled whenever he was around. Because, as much as she wanted to empathize, Katniss was still hurt by the words he’d spat at her doorstep on that muggy summer night.

 

She didn’t understand what had come over him that day, or why he had been so adamant to know the nature of her relationship with Peeta.

 

His heated words still echoed in her mind, making her feel cheap and small.

 

She hadn’t been able to forget the judgmental glint she’d seen in his eyes. And she resented his insinuation that her relationship with the baker’s son was a sordid and shameful affair.

 

Up until two days before, her relationship with Peeta Mellark had been non-existent, and the only thing she was ashamed of was repaying the kind boy’s sacrifice with five years of silence and indifference.

 

Peeta’s generous gift on that cold rainy day had nothing to do with Gale. And, if Gale thought threats and insults were the way to earn her trust, he was sorely mistaken.

 

The funny thing was that, for someone who liked to vent and rant, Gale had been surprisingly eager to sweep their argument under the rug.

 

In the weeks following Peeta’s victory, the hunting partners had settled into their current routine without ever mentioning the incident. It was almost as if they believed that, somehow, ignoring the things Gale had said would make them go away.

 

Happy to avoid confrontation, Katniss had followed Gale’s lead, acting as if nothing had happened. But the damage had been done. Something precious had broken between them that night, and they still hadn’t found a way to make it right.

 

“So, where would you like to start today?” Gale asked.

 

“Um, well, I wanted to follow the east trail. I was hoping to gather some herbs and plants today.”

 

“Didn't you do that last week? Rory said you spent Wednesday afternoon drying leaves for your mother’s pantry. I figured she was set for winter.”

 

Katniss nodded. “She is, but I still need a few more things.”

 

Gale narrowed his eyes. “Are you trading them?”

 

Katniss’s stomach dropped. She knew what was coming next, and she couldn’t avoid it. Softly, she admitted, “Yeah. We, um... we have a new customer.”

 

“A new customer? That’s good!” he said smiling, “Who is it?”

 

Katniss braced herself. “It’s Peeta," she said, "Peeta Mellark.”

 

Like a hawk who spots a mouse running through a field, Gale trained his sharp eyes on her.

 

Katniss stood still. She recognized the look on his face. She knew him well enough to know she was being studied; like a wild animal which needs to be understood so that it can be cornered and trapped.

 

 _He's always been good at that_ , she thought, _building traps and setting up snares_.

 

She had put up with Gale’s interference when she was younger. She'd actually appreciated having someone who had her back and helped her whenever she was in a bind, but this new attitude that made him act like he had a right to infringe on her life and pass judgment on her decisions made her bristle.

 

She didn't like it, and she wasn't willing to put up with it anymore. The days of Gale Hawthorne meddling in her personal affairs were over.

 

Katniss pushed back her shoulders and looked straight into her friend's eyes. “Enough,” she warned.

 

He pursed his lips. “I haven’t said anything.”

 

Katniss scowled. “You don’t have to. I know what you’re thinking.”

 

“And what is that?” he challenged her.

 

“You're thinking that victors are as capricious as Capitolites and that he’s going to take advantage of me in some way.”

 

Gale smirked. “And doesn’t that give you some pause, Catnip?”

 

Annoyed, Katniss shook her head. Before Gale could assume his “big brother” stance and began dictating what her conduct should be, she added, “I know what I'm doing, Gale. This is a good deal. You don't want to be a part of it? Fine. Don't be. I don't need your help to keep up my end of the bargain,” she finished with a shrug.

 

A storm raged in Gale's gray eyes. His words dripped with barely contained rage when he spoke. “Fine. Push me aside, have it your way. We’ll see how long this “good deal” lasts before our young victor decides squirrels and fish aren't enough to fill his needs.”

 

Katniss's hands clenched into tight fists by her side. Her words, fueled by anger and disappointment, hung in the air between them. “I don't know what’s worse, the way you judge Peeta without even knowing him, or how little you think of me.

 

“Think about it Gale, have either one of us ever given you cause to believe our dealings would be nothing but proper?”

 

Gale dropped his gaze to the ground. His shoulders slumped forward as he let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm just trying to protect you, Catnip," he whispered.

 

"I appreciate that, Gale,” she said shortly, “but you need to trust me on this one. Peeta is not a threat, and he's offering a good deal. This will be good for us. You'll see."

 

With a bitter laugh, Gale turned to look at the woods. His voice was hoarse and distant when he asked, "Just promise me one thing."

 

Katniss eyed him warily. Promises and vows were something Gale took very seriously. "What?"

 

"If anything ever goes wrong, you'll tell me about it. Alright?"

 

Katniss rolled her eyes. "Fine," she relented, "If that sets your mind at ease... I promise."

 

"I'm not playing, Catnip," he warned, locking his bright gunmetal eyes with hers. "Promise me."

 

Eager to put the matter to rest, Katniss repeated, "If anything ever goes wrong, you'll be the first to know. I promise."

 

Seemingly satisfied, Gale dropped her gaze. "Alright."

 

The sound of a twig snapping, followed by a hushed curse, made them turn. Rory.

 

“Hey, guys!” the boy greeted. “The snare line is clean.” Noticing his brother’s tense posture, he asked, “Is everything ok?”

 

“Everything’s fine,” the hunting partners huffed in unison startling him.

 

Gale stood up. Stretching his long limbs as far as they could reach, he filled his lungs with fresh forest air. After holding the posture for a moment, he relaxed his muscles and exhaled, expelling the air with a low whistle.

 

On quick, silent feet Gale reached his brother's side. “Katniss is going to check the East trail today," he explained. "You should probably stick with me.”

 

Rory's eyes sparkled at the prospect of spending the morning with his brother. "Alright!" Turning to the huntress, he said, "See you tomorrow, Katniss!"

 

Katniss was already standing up, her hunting bag hung from her shoulders. "Yeah, see you tomorrow." Before turning around, she added, " Bye, Gale. I'll see you next week."

 

"Yep, I'll be here. Hopefully, I'll even make it on time," Gale added, casting a sideways glance to Rory who had the decency to blush.

 

As Katniss made her way through the woods that day, she felt light and cheerful. All in all, she'd had a pretty good weekend.

 

After years of living burdened by guilt and remorse, she had finally found a way to make things right with Peeta.

 

The terms of their deal made the upcoming winter a little less daunting. And the idea of helping him with the greenhouse thrilled her. Having easy access to fresh plants for her mother's pantry all year round, sounded like a dream come true. She still couldn't believe she had stumbled onto such a precious opportunity.

 

Her mind flitted back to Gale and their conversation. Things between them were far from perfect but, at least, they had reached an understanding. No matter what her hunting partner thought now, she was sure that in a few months' time, he'd be just as happy with their deal with Peeta as she was.

 

 _Yes,_ Katniss thought, _it’s a pretty good weekend indeed._

 


	11. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time since I updated this story. A little more than a year, to be exact, but I'm finally back! Last year was full of unexpected twists and I was a bit scatterbrained, but I'm determined to finish this fic and I want to do it right, so I'll be focusing on it from now on. 
> 
> Thank you for hanging on and for being so patient. You'll notice this chapter is longer than the previous ones. Don't get used to it. I'll be going to the usual format from now on. 
> 
> Alright, I've kept you enough. Hope you enjoy.

"Are you still going to Penny's after school tomorrow?" Katniss asked as she stepped into the kitchen.

 

Prim looked up from the small, round cheese she was wrapping. "Yeah, we're doing our homework together."

 

Katniss smiled. She knew "doing our homework" was just a code for "listening to the Capitol entertainment broadcast on the radio" but she didn't mind. The school in District 12 wasn't very demanding, and Prim and Penny were both doing fine.

 

"Ok, I'll pick you up after my rounds." Katniss walked over to the kitchen counter and dropped her hunting bag on top of it. "I might get there a little later than usual, but I'll be there, alright?"

 

 "Are you taking Rory out tomorrow?" Prim asked focusing back on her work.

 

"No." Katniss opened her hunting bag and began rummaging through its contents. "I'm adding a new stop."

 

Prim's bright blue eyes lit up with excitement. "You have a new customer?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"That's great!" Prim exclaimed. "Is it one of the schoolteachers? Is it Mr. Harris?"

 

Katniss chuckled at her sister's enthusiasm. "No, it's not Mr. Harris," she said pulling a few vegetables out of her bag.

 

"Oh." Prim tried not to sound disappointed. Mr. Harris, her history teacher, was a single man with a government salary. He sounded like the perfect candidate for her sister's trading route. Reaching out for a second cheese, she asked, "So, where are you going then?"

 

Looking over her shoulder to face Prim, Katniss said, "Victors' Village."

 

Prim's mouth dropped. Her eyes, curious and bright, found her sister's. "You're trading with Peeta," she stated.

 

Katniss nodded. "Yeah."

 

"Since when?"

 

"Since yesterday," Katniss explained. Letting go of her bag she turned fully towards Prim. "I ran into him at the bakery a couple days ago, and he asked if I could trade with him."

 

Prim's brows came together in a frown. "And you're delivering to his house?"

 

"Yeah. It's easier that way," she stated matter-of-factly. Her first visit to the Village had been a success, but she didn't want Prim to know about her original misgivings. "It's closer to the woods, and there are no peacekeepers to keep tabs on us. It's perfect, really."

 

Prim nodded, seemingly satisfied with her sister's explanation.

 

Turning her attention back to the vegetables on the counter, Katniss busied herself with their dinner, quietly peeling and slicing the potatoes and carrots she had brought home from the Hob. She was almost finished when she said, "He has a greenhouse."

 

"A greenhouse?" Prim squealed. "Where?"

 

"In his backyard. He's growing vegetables and a few herbs." Katniss explained. "He's asked me to help him find more."

 

"More what, herbs?"

 

Leaving her knife on the cutting board, Katniss turned around again. The excitement in Prim's eyes was contagious.

 

A sly smile settled on Katniss's lips as she said, "Mm-hmm. He only wanted edible ones, but then I suggested growing some medicinal varieties as well."

 

Forgetting about her cheeses for a moment, Prim stood up and walked over to her sister's side. Her eyes wide as saucers, "You're going to be planting medicinal herbs in Peeta Mellark's greenhouse?"

 

Katniss beamed. "Yeah! All I have to do is find them and transplant a sample of each kind. He'll grow them in his backyard, and we'll include them in our trade."

 

Prim crossed her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. "So, you'll give him fresh game, and he'll give you herbs for it?"

 

Katniss nodded. After dropping her potatoes into a waiting pot, she added, "Well… yeah. That's part of it."

 

A hint of worry laced Prim's words. "What's the other part?"

 

"The herbs will be my payment for helping him around the greenhouse every week. The fresh game is a separate arrangement. We'll trade coin or food for that."

 

Prim nodded. "Have you told Mom yet?"

 

"What for?" Katniss bristled. "I've been trading with merchants and Seam folk for a long time, Prim. I've never discussed my trading terms with her. Why would I start now?"

 

Prim shook her head; a hint of a smile turned her lips. "What are you going to do with those medicinal herbs, Katniss?" she asked.

 

Katniss bit her lip. Prim was right. Ultimately, most of the herbs would be for her mother. It made sense to include her in the selection process.

 

"I'll talk to her tonight," she promised with a smile. "I'll ask her to make a list of the things she needs the most."

 

Without another word, Katniss went back to her cooking.

 

Prim pushed herself away from the counter, walked back to the table, and sat down to finish packing her cheese. She was almost done when she looked up once more, "So... Gale was right, wasn't he?"

 

The mention of Gale's name made Katniss's back stiffen. "About what?" she asked trying to keep her anger towards her hunting partner out of her voice.

 

"When he said you knew Peeta."

 

Katniss turned so quickly her braid hit her chin. "Of course, I know him, Prim!" she snapped, "We went to school together."

 

Prim rolled her eyes, evidently unimpressed by her sister's angry tone. "You go to school with a lot of people, Katniss, and I've never seen you show any interest in any of them." Bright blue eyes found anxious grey. "You were worried about Peeta, though," Prim stated.

 

Katniss huffed, she was about to protest when Prim held her hand up. "I watched his Game with you, remember?"

 

Katniss pressed her lips together, stubbornly refusing to give voice to what her sister already knew.

 

Prim let out a deep breath. Looking at the perfectly wrapped cheeses on the table, she said, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just… don't act like I don’t know what I’m talking about, ok?"

 

Katniss dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had spent a long time keeping this secret to herself, carrying the remorse of never thanking Peeta.

 

But things were different now, she had settled matters with the baker's son, and Prim was no longer a child. What was the harm in telling her sister about her connection to their district's youngest victor? It might even simplify things now that she was going to be dealing with him on a regular basis.

 

Leaving the vegetables to simmer over a gentle flame, Katniss walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. 

 

Tenderly, she reached out for Prim's hand and laced their fingers together.  "You're right," she whispered squeezing lightly. "I've known Peeta for a long time."

 

Prim smiled. With a small nod, she encouraged her sister to go on.

 

Katniss closed her eyes, took a deep breath and released it, slowly, allowing five years of secrets and worry to seep out of her in one long exhale. In the dark, holding on to Prim's hand, she found the strength to finally say the words out loud. "He's the reason we're still here, Prim. He saved our lives."

 

* * *

 

"What a nice-looking trout!" Hazelle exclaimed.

 

"And I caught it all by myself," Rory boasted, proudly displaying the fish on the kitchen table for all the world to see.

 

"Oh, is that right?" his mother asked --pride and amusement bright in her eyes.

 

Rory nodded vigorously. "It is!" Turning to Katniss who was still standing by the door, Rory asked, "Tell her, Katniss."

 

"He did," Katniss gladly confirmed, "He used one of our old nets, but he did all the work on his own."

 

Vick walked into the room. His eyes almost popped out of his face when he saw the fish lying on the table. "Good job, Rory!" he exclaimed giving his older brother an affectionate pat on the back. "I bet Gale's gonna be real pleased when he sees it."

 

A sense of unease settled in the pit of Katniss's stomach at the mention of her hunting partner. Their last encounters in the woods hadn't been terrible, but things between them were still tense, and she wasn't in the mood to see him just yet.

 

Eyeing the kitchen clock, she noticed that it was a little later than usual. _He's probably on his way back from work_ , she fretted.

 

As if reading her thoughts, Hazelle said, "Gale is working the longer shift today, boys. He’ll see it once it's cooked."

 

"But he'll still see how big it is. Right, mamma?" Vick asked.

 

"Yes, he will," Hazelle confirmed, "I'll cook it in one piece, and he'll see it before we eat it." Running a hand through her middle son's hair, she said, "You did good, Rory."

 

The twelve-year-old beamed. "Thanks, mamma."

 

"Now, put the fish in the sink where I can clean it, and go wash yourselves. It's getting late, and you still have your schoolwork to do," Hazelle instructed.

 

"Yes, mamma," the children answered in unison before following their mother's command.

 

Right before leaving the room, Rory turned and waved. "See you tomorrow, Katniss."

 

"See you tomorrow, Katniss!" Vick echoed mimicking his brother's movements.

 

Katniss chuckled. "See you tomorrow, boys."

 

A peaceful silence fell upon the room as soon as the children left.

 

Katniss relaxed against the wall. Now that she knew Gale wasn't about to walk through the door she could stay and talk to Hazelle for a bit.

 

After checking up on the fish, Hazelle walked over to a washbasin filled with white clothes and pulled out a shirt.  "So, how was your day?" she asked as she began scrubbing the collar clean. "Did you manage to get everything done?"

 

Katniss shrugged. "It was okay, we did enough."

 

Hazelle nodded. Looking up from her work, she asked, "Is Rory really helping you or is he just getting in the way?"

 

"He helps," Katniss assured her. "He still has a lot to learn, and sometimes he slows me down, but he's getting there. He did really well in the stream today."

 

Hazelle's gray eyes shone proudly in the dimly lit room. With a satisfied smile, she went back to her washing, "So, what are your plans for New Year's Eve?"

 

A cold chill ran down Katniss's spine, with a shiver, she pushed herself away from the wall and straightened her back.

 

The Everdeens and the Hawthornes didn't do many things together but bringing in the new year as a group had become something of a tradition for the two families.

 

They had only been singing winter songs and sharing their food and good wishes with each other for the past three years, but it already felt like they'd been doing it their entire lives.

 

Up until recently, Katniss had believed they would continue the tradition long into the future although, with the way things were between her and Gale right now, she wasn't sure spending the last night of the year together was such a good idea. 

 

Tightening her hold on her hunting bag's straps, Katniss answered. "Um, I don't know... I haven't really thought about it."

 

"It's next week," Hazelle pointed out. "We should start planning."

 

Katniss swallowed thickly, she could feel her heart rate spiking as she anxiously searched her mind for something to say or for some excuse to get out of the plan.

 

Across from her, Hazelle pulled another shirt out of the washbasin and began the process of scrubbing all over again. "He's an idiot," she stated matter-of-factly, breaking the silence which had already begun to stretch. "A hard-headed fool; but he means well, you know?"

 

Squishing her eyebrows together, Katniss blurted, "What?"

 

Looking up from her work, Hazelle clarified, "Gale. He's an idiot who means well. You know that, right?"

 

Dumbfounded, Katniss nodded. In all her years of knowing Hazelle, she had never heard her speak about her son like that, she wondered what was pushing her to do so now.

 

Encouraged by Katniss's silence, Hazelle went on. "He's my son, and I love him. But I know he's been an ass lately."

 

Katniss opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Hazelle was right, Gale had been an ass, there was no point in denying it.

 

"I'm not trying to make excuses for him. He's a grown man, and he can speak for himself," Hazelle continued, "but I know the last thing he wanted was to hurt you." Looking down at her soapy hands, she shook her head. "It's just... The last few months have been full of changes for him, Katniss, and he's, well… confused, I guess."

 

"Confused?" Katniss scoffed. "About what?"

 

"You," Hazelle answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Katniss scowled, Hazelle wasn't making any sense. "Why would he be confused about me?"

 

Hazelle sighed. Katniss followed the movement of her shoulders, watched them relax as the air left her lungs. With a sympathetic smile, the laundress said, "He thinks he's in love with you."

 

Like a bucketful of ice-cold water being dropped over her head, Hazelle's words washed over Katniss, shocking her and freezing her to the bone.

 

"What?" Katniss stuttered. "How can that…" Overwhelmed, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead and closed her eyes, desperately trying to stop her head from spinning.

 

Hazelle's words spun inside her head, bringing up bits and pieces of conversations and exchanges she'd had with Gale over the months.

 

Tender smiles and easy jokes danced behind Katniss's eyelids followed by resentful looks of anger and despair.

 

As these memories flashed through her mind, some of the attitudes she'd found so baffling began to make sense; like Gale's odd behavior after the reaping, his rushed visit to her house after Tessa's death or his comments about Peeta.

 

Even his stubbornness at trying to figure out what her connection to the baker's son was, became clear in her eyes.

 

She was still shaking her head in denial when she spoke, "Since when?"

 

"I don't know exactly; about a year, I guess."

 

"A year!" Katniss blurted out, opening her eyes only to feel a sharp sense of defeat settling on her chest. "How could I not know this?" she mumbled.

 

"Because you don't see him that way." Hazelle's soft, gentle voice dripped with sadness when she added, "To you, he's just a friend."

 

"I thought he knew where I stood," Katniss replied, troubled about the direction the conversation had taken, worried that she might have misled her friend in any way.

 

"He does. You've been very clear about what you want and what you don't want," Hazelle assured her. "But the heart plays tricks on us, Katniss, and men can be stubborn sometimes --Hawthorne men more than most," she added with a smile. "I guess he was hoping you would change your mind."

 

"But I won't," Katniss declared adamantly. "Even if I ever cared about anyone that way, I wouldn't pursue it. I would never marry them."

 

Hazelle nodded her understanding. This wasn't the first time Katniss had spoken against marriage and having a family of her own. Gale's mother knew all about the pain, sorrow, and crippling fear that haunted Katniss's dreams.

 

Drying her soapy hands on a clean towel, Hazelle said, "I know and, for what it's worth, I think Gale knows it too." Dropping the towel on the table, Hazelle made her way to where Katniss stood. Reaching out, she squeezed the girl's arm. "That's why he's been so angry lately. Because he's beginning to accept that you won't change your mind and that, if you ever do, it won't be for him."

 

Katniss stared at Hazelle's hand on her arm. The gesture was so comforting and tender it made her heart drop. In spite of everything, she cared about Gale, and she loved his family. Hazelle had been nothing but good to her over the years; she hated the disappointment reflected in her slate-gray eyes and the fact that she was the one who had put it there.

 

But still, Katniss's resolve to avoid marriage was as firm as ever and encouraging Gale's romantic notions just to keep the peace didn't seem like the right thing to do. It wouldn't have been fair on either one of them.

 

Besides, Katniss didn't need a family, she already had one. She was still responsible for Prim and for her mother. That was more than enough worry for one person.

 

"I'm sorry," Katniss apologized.

 

With a shake of her head, Hazelle eased her worry. "Don't be. None of this is your fault." Letting out a deep sight, she spoke again, "And don't worry too much about him. He'll come around. He's an idiot, but he's no fool. He knows your friendship and your partnership are worth a lot more than a bruised ego. Just, do me a favor, be patient with him. Give him some time, alright?"

 

Swallowing past the knot in her throat, Katniss nodded. Trying to keep the tremor out of her voice, she said, "Thank you for telling me. I honestly thought I was going crazy these past few months."

 

Hazelle chuckled. "Yeah. I figured as much." Sobering up, she asked, "Tell me something, though. This new customer of yours, our new victor, you trust him?"

 

With an emphatic nod, Katniss confirmed, "I do."

 

Hazelle smiled. "Good. That's all I needed to know." Letting go of Katniss's arm, she turned and walked to the washbasin that was still overflowing with clothes. Pulling a new shirt out of the suds, she asked, "So, New Year's, what are you Everdeens bringing?"

 

* * *

 

"So, which one do you want?" Peeta asked pointing to the different types of pie on display on his kitchen island.

 

Katniss bit her lip. She had only been trading with him for a few weeks, but choosing her payment was quickly becoming one of her favorite activities.

 

Cocking her head to the side, she considered her options. It wasn't an easy choice. "I'll take the mushroom with spinach and bacon if that's ok."

 

"Alright!" Peeta lifted the pie and placed it on a clean tea towel. Reaching across the island, he grabbed two round buns and carefully dropped them on top.

 

"What are those?" Katniss asked, pointing at the small rolls.

 

"Left-over cheese buns," Peeta said with a shrug. "I made far too many last week, and I'm getting sick of them. You might as well take them home."

 

Katniss frowned. "Are you sure? I could give you something else." She opened her hunting bag and began looking for the handful of chestnuts she had found by the river.

 

Peeta wrapped the baked goods in the tea towel and tied the corners to keep the buns in place. "That's not necessary, Katniss. You just gave me a fat turkey. I think this is an even trade."

 

Katniss looked at the bunch of vegetables Peeta had brought in from the greenhouse and then back at the bundle in his hands. He was right, it was a fair trade, the two small rolls wouldn't make a big difference. She could always bring something extra for him next time.

 

"Okay," she agreed.

 

"A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Everdeen," Peeta intoned, carefully pushing the parcel in Katniss's direction.

 

Katniss smiled.

 

She wasn't much of a people person --she had always been more of an introvert who enjoyed the comfortable silences she shared with her closest friends-- but there was something about Peeta's easy smile and kind disposition that had instantly broken through her usual barriers.

 

She didn't know if the effect Peeta had on her was a residue of all the years she'd spent watching him from afar or a result of following his Game so closely. But she knew that she enjoyed spending time with him.

 

Even if there were times when the low timbre of his voice and the warmth in his sparkling blue eyes turned her into a quivering mess --a baffling feeling that left her flustered and inexplicably wanting for more.

 

Fortunately, Peeta never took any notice of her discomfort or, if he did, he was good at hiding it. He was always considerate and gentle, he never failed to greet her with a smile, and he made her feel welcome in his home. 

 

She had only helped him in the greenhouse a couple of times, but she already loved the place. Time seemed to fly by when she was there with him surrounded by life and possibility as she transplanted seedlings by digging her hands into the damp earth.

 

Leaning over the kitchen island, Katniss took the covered pie from Peeta's hands.

 

Her outstretched fingers brushed briefly over his in the exchange, and she stilled for an instant, allowing a warm tingle to run up her arms.

 

In one slow, deliberate motion, Peeta backed away, running his hands over the cold marble surface until they reached the counter’s edge.

 

Dragging the bundle the rest of the way, Katniss answered, "You too, Mr. Mellark," as she tried --and failed-- to stifle a laugh.

 

Arching a golden eyebrow, he teased, "You can't do it, can you?"

 

"I'm sorry," she apologized with a shake of her head, "I've been trading with your father for a long time."

 

"Yeah, I get it," he said with knowing nod. "There's only one Mr. Mellark in District 12, and, well, I'm not him." Grabbing Katniss's vegetables, he walked to her side of the island. "Here, don't forget these."

 

Letting go of the pie, Katniss lifted her hunting bag and held it open for him.

 

Carefully, Peeta placed the vegetables in the bag.

 

He was standing so close to her she could hear him breathe. Mesmerized, Katniss watched the movement of his chest as it expanded in front of her; followed the fall of his shoulders as he emptied his lungs.

 

Feeling self-conscious, she looked away and tried to focus on the heavy bag in her hands, but the warmth radiating off of Peeta's body and the trail of woodsy notes in his cologne overpowered her senses. "Thanks," she whispered feeling suddenly lightheaded. 

 

Taking a small step back, Peeta slipped his hands into his back pockets and cleared his throat. "Well, that's it, our last trade of the year."

 

Katniss nodded. Placing her hunting bag on the tabletop, she asked, "What are you doing for New Year's?"

 

Peeta shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I'll probably spend it with my family. You?"

 

Too busy trying to figure out a way to place the bundle with the pie inside her bag, she mumbled, "I'm going over to Gale's."

 

"Oh, right," Peeta said, turning on his heels and walking to the other side of the kitchen island. 

 

Looking up, Katniss followed his movements through narrowed eyes. "What?"

 

Peeta's hand reached for his neck and began rubbing. A nervous chuckle rumbled in his chest.

 

Katniss's eyes followed the trail of red, angry marks his anxious fingertips were leaving over the pale skin. She wished she could kiss them better.

 

Startled by her own thoughts, she focused back on the words coming out of his lips.

 

"Well, isn't he your..." Peeta trailed off not knowing exactly which word to use, _boyfriend, sweetheart, beau, betrothed_... he didn't know which one was appropriate or which one was worse. They all left the same bitter taste of defeat in his mouth.

 

Katniss's eyes narrowed even further. "Hunting partner?" she suggested.

 

Peeta froze. His eyes, bright and alert locked with hers. "That's not what I was going to say."

 

Lifting her chin in defiance, she declared, "Well, that's all he is." It wasn't exactly true but, with the current state of affairs, it was all she was willing to admit. Softening her tone a little, she explained, "We've been hunting together for a while, and our families are kind of close. So, we usually bring in the new year together."

 

Peeta nodded. His heart hammered against his chest as he tried to come to terms with what he had just heard. As sweet as Katniss's revelation was, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, "I always thought you two were closer than that."

 

 She was about to explain that Gale was also her friend when a sudden question popped into her head. "You thought we were... together?" she asked emphasizing the last word.

 

"Yeah."

 

A sudden heaviness settled on her shoulders. Dismayed, she reached for her braid and began twisting it between her fingers. "Why would you think that?"

 

Peeta shrugged. "I don't know. I just..." Intrigued by Katniss's sudden change in mood, he reached back into his memories.

 

In an instant, his mind was flooded with hundreds of little snippets featuring the two hunters from the Seam. He saw them haggling with merchants, joking with vendors, laughing.

 

In his most soothing tone, Peeta said, "I remember when you came to the bakery. He was always there, watching over you, following your every move." Leaning forward to rest his folded arms on the countertop, he added, "Sometimes I'd see you two walking around town or trading at the market or the Hob. You looked comfortable together, happy even. The way a couple does."

 

Like the wispy winter chill, Peeta's words burrowed deep inside her making her shiver. Desperate for comfort, Katniss wrapped her arms around herself, but it was no use, the weather had nothing to do with the emptiness she felt.

 

She had spent years thinking Gale was her best friend and believing he was on the same page. She knew her comments about love had been clear. But, if passersby and casual observers were getting the wrong idea... maybe, her actions had been misleading.

 

For the hundredth time since her talk to Hazelle, she berated herself for not noticing the small changes in Gale's attitude until now.

 

Eager to change the subject, she latched on to the one bit of information she found most intriguing. "You go to the Hob?"

 

"Yeah," he confirmed bobbing his head up and down. "I used to go to Taryn's stand. She's the only vendor who sells tinctures and pigments."

 

Across the kitchen island, Katniss's face lit up. She knew Taryn, she was the goatman's niece and an occasional customer. "I get my ink there too," she said.

 

"Ink? What for?"

 

Absentmindedly, Katniss began fiddling with the straps of her bag. This wasn't something she usually talked about, but Peeta seemed genuinely interested, and she didn't see the harm in sharing this bit of her past with him.

 

"My mother's side of the family ran the apothecary in town," she explained, "They kept a book with illustrations and explanations of all the different varieties of plants and their medicinal uses. As the eldest child, my mother decided the book was hers. So, she took it with her when she married my father. He added a few more entries with edible plants." Her voice faltered as she quietly admitted, "I don't know how to draw, but I've added a couple of entries myself."

 

Peeta's hoarse whisper made her skin tingle. "I'd love to see it sometime."

 

Fighting the blush spreading through her cheeks, she said, "I'll bring it by."

 

* * *

 

Katniss relaxed into her seat. A warm sense of contentment swaddled her as she watched Prim, Rory, and Vick huddled around the kitchen table in the Hawthorne home, their cheeks flushed and their eyes aglow while they ladled second servings of lentil soup into their empty bowls.

 

On the other side of the room, her mother and Hazelle shared a hushed conversation, their voices drowned out by the soothing sound of the fire crackling in the hearth. 

 

With one last gulp, Katniss emptied the teacup she held in her hands. The hot liquid traveled down her throat warming her chest and making her hum in contentment. She had been dreading the new year's gathering but, much to her relief, it was turning out a lot better than she'd thought.

 

Gale's soft whisper broke through her thoughts. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

 

Her heart dropped. _So much for having a pleasant evening_ , she thought. Hoping she could get out of having this particular conversation, she turned to him. "Gale, I--,"

 

"Don't worry," he interrupted. "You don't really need to say anything, but I need you to hear what I have to say, alright?"

 

She wanted to refuse, to excuse herself by saying that this wasn't the right time or place to have what she feared would only be a yelling match, but the sight of Gale's eyes --sad and dull as two dying stars-- stopped her short.

 

Resigned, Katniss nodded.

 

Tilting his head, Gale pointed to the door; a silent invitation for them to take their business elsewhere.

 

Reluctantly, Katniss stood up. After depositing her empty teacup on a nearby table, she grabbed her coat and followed him out the door leaving the warm comfort of his home for the bitter cold of the cloudless winter night.

 

Gale walked towards the side of the house and leaned against the wall.

 

Dragging her feet, Katniss followed, stopping to mirror his posture just a few inches away.

 

A small smile settled on Gale's lips, it spoke more of defeat than it did of joy.

 

"Listen," he began, voice soft in the winter night. "I know things haven't been easy between us lately, and I know that I'm the one to blame." With a shuddering sigh, he looked up to the sky. "We've been friends for a long time, Katniss. We've been together through thick and thin, and we've always had each other's backs, but things are different now."

 

The sadness in his voice brought tears to her eyes. Looking out into the night, she blinked them away.

 

A cold gust of wind wrapped around her, bringing Hazelle's words back to her mind. She shivered, feeling miserable. For the first time in months, she knew what lay at the heart of Gale's speech.

 

 _He's suffering from a broken heart_ , she told herself, _and I've been too blind to notice_.

 

Determined to put an end to the unpleasantness between them, Katniss wrapped her arms tightly around her slender frame and braced herself for whatever Gale was about to say next.

 

His next few words were softer than she'd imagined. "I know how you feel about marriage," he said looking at her. "But, I don't know, I guess… I thought that maybe…" Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he admitted, "I had this crazy notion that I might get you to change your mind."

 

More out of curiosity than anger, Katniss asked, "Why would you think that?"

 

Gale shrugged, he never had any difficulty talking about politics or social injustice, but he'd never had to discuss matters of the heart before. It was turning out to be harder than he'd expected.

 

 _He's as uncomfortable as I am_ , Katniss realized as the silence between them stretched. Trying to push matters along, she asked, "Did I ever do anything--,"

 

"No," he assured her. "You never led me on. You just grew up and sort of crept up on me, I guess." Falling silent, Gale rubbed the back of his neck and searched his mind for the right words to say.  "We make such a good team that I just figured it meant we were destined for something more," he finally said. "But we're not. I was wrong, I know that now."

 

Relieved, Katniss nodded. Apparently, Gale had had enough time to think things through, and he had reached the right conclusions. Maybe Hazelle had pointed him in the right direction.

 

"I still remember when we first met," he said with a nostalgic chuckle. "You were such a pain back then."

 

Jerking her head in his direction, she asked, "What?"

 

His eyes lit up with a kind of playful mischief she hadn't seen in a while. "Yeah! You'd question everything and check every transaction twice. You were convinced I was trying to scam you or something; always determined to put me in my place. It was annoying as hell!"

 

Pushing herself away from the wall, Katniss snapped, "Well, excuse me for trying to provide for my family and making sure they didn't get the short end of the stick!"

 

Gale raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I get it. You were just watching out for your own, doing what needed to be done. You were just a kid doing a man's job. Believe me, I understand." Lowering his hands, he added, "But we were a lot more productive once you started trusting me. Wouldn't you agree?"

 

Letting her guard down again, Katniss admitted, "Yeah. We were better as a team."

 

Sobering up, Gale said, "I don't want all this bad blood hanging between us anymore, Katniss. I know I've been an ass. I'm sorry.  I can't take back the things I said, but I'm hoping we can move past them. Maybe we could start the new year with a clean slate?"

 

Holding his gaze for a moment, Katniss considered his words. At the end of the day, this was what she'd wanted all along, for things to go back to the way they were before. She missed her hunting partner --her friend--, and she was willing to sweep the ugliness of the past few months under the rug if it meant getting him back.

 

"Okay," she said smiling at him for the first time in ages. "I'll allow it."

 

Gale's face lit up. "Thank you," he said.

 

For one joyous moment, the two friends held each other's gaze, grinning like children who have found an unexpected treasure. 

 

Slowly, the smile fell from Gale's face.

 

Katniss's mouth went dry as she saw him letting out a deep breath.

 

"There's one more thing I need to talk to you about," he said.

 

Katniss's hands tightened, her small fingers dug into her arms through the fabric of her coat. She didn't like the sound of this, not one bit. 

 

With a level voice, Gale said, "Our new customer."

 

"What about him?" she groaned.

 

"I don't want to pick a fight," Gale soothed. "I'm just trying to understand."

 

"Understand what?" Katniss asked, her eyes narrowing into two gleaming slits.

 

"Well, to be honest, I'm trying to figure out if he can be trusted."

 

"Come on, Gale!" she yelled, releasing her pent-up frustration on those three words.

 

Gale shook his head. "No. I'm serious, Katniss. This is not about me being jealous or overprotective. It used to be," he admitted, "but it's not anymore. I promise." Locking his gray eyes on hers, he asked, "Are we still friends?"

 

Katniss held his gaze, after a moment, she nodded.

 

"I don't know how you two are connected and I know it's not my place to ask," he quickly clarified, "believe me, you've made that perfectly clear. But you are the only person I know who actually knows him, and I don't know, I guess... I thought maybe you could tell me something about him."

 

Unable to mask her annoyance, she replied, "What kind of something?"

 

Gale shrugged. Suddenly, his eyes widened, Katniss could almost see a new idea forming in his mind. "Do you know what people say about him?" he asked.

 

Taken aback, Katniss asked, "What people?"

 

"The people in the mines, my crewmates, my supervisors."

 

A line of worry settled between Katniss's eyebrows. "Why would the miners talk about him?"

 

"Well, because he's a victor," Gale explained, "but also because they're all tired of the way things are and they're desperate for a change."

 

Her pulse quickened sending a cold shiver down her spine. "What has that got to do with Peeta?"

 

Gale's voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you think we're the only ones who feel this way, Katniss?"

 

Unable to answer his question, she shrugged.

 

"Every year the people in this country give everything they have to the Capitol,” he said. “We give them our coal, our food, our lumber, our children. We provide. They enjoy. They keep us trapped behind electrified fences, pitting us against each other, making us think we are rivals, but we're not."

 

"I know that already," she snapped impatiently, "You've been talking about this for years." 

 

Gale nodded. "Yeah, I have." Slipping his hands into his pockets, he continued, "The point is that the districts are not our enemies. At the end of the day, we all want the same things. We want our families to be fed and safe, and the freedom to choose what's best for ourselves. We want to raise our children without the fear of the Games hanging over our heads." Gale's eyes burned with resolve as he finished his hushed speech. "If we all got together, President Snow and his peacekeepers wouldn't be able to stop us."

 

Katniss's eyes widened in shock. It wasn't unusual for Gale to talk about injustice or oppression. He had always been rebellious, but she'd never seen him like this; calm and collected as he carefully explained his thoughts.

 

 _What has he been doing lately_ , she wondered.

 

In the quiet night, Gale's hushed words were as terrifying as a clap of thunder. "That's where _he_ comes in. Many believe your victor is our answer. They say he can bring all the districts back together," he finished, grey eyes sparkling with hope under the silvery moonlight.

 

Ignoring Gale's reference to _her_ victor, Katniss asked, "Back together? What does that even mean?"

 

"It means breaking our chains, harnessing the power within the districts, getting rid of the Capitol once and for all. Look, Katniss, a lot of people are willing to risk their livelihoods --their lives even-- because of what he's done. If he were to lead the way, they would follow."

 

A cold sweat broke through her body. Trying to keep the panic from her voice, she asked, "Follow him where? What are you talking about? He hasn't done anything!"

 

Gale shook his head; a disbelieving chuckle accompanied the movement. "You were so busy watching him survive that you didn't even notice how many unspoken rules he broke."

 

Her stomach dropped. The acrid taste of bile flooded her mouth, and she shook her head in denial. "He didn't break any rules."

 

With the same soft voice he used to quiz Rory after one of their walks along the snare line, Gale asked, "How many tributes did he kill?"

 

Knitting her eyebrows, Katniss searched her memories for an answer. "Not many." Using the fingers on her hand to keep track, she began counting, "There was the girl from Two, and the boy from One."

 

Gale nodded. "Who else?"

 

"The boy from Two."

 

"That's just three," Gale pointed out. "It's not many. Do you know what the average kill score for victors is?"

 

"I'm guessing more than three," Katniss grumbled.

 

"Yeah, it's five. Of course, there have been some exceptions here and there, but three is one of the smallest kill counts ever."

 

"Alright, so Peeta isn't a bloodthirsty warrior. What does that matter? He was the last person standing, isn't that what counts?"

 

"On a basic level, yeah," Gale agreed. "But, what do all his kills have in common?"

 

"They were all careers," she mumbled after an instant. Unable to see how that was relevant, she asked, "So?"

 

"Well, it's normal for careers to kill each other," Gale explained, "They're trained, they know when and how to attack. Most of them die at the hands of other careers or are killed by the mutts in the arena. But no one's ever heard of a non-career killing three careers on one Game."

 

"Peeta's strong, he's a wrestler," she reminded him. "Maybe he didn't train for the Game, but he was better prepared than most tributes. You saw his final training score. It was unusually high for District 12!"

 

"That's just it," Gale said with a smile. "Most people in his position would have joined the career pack and tried to benefit from their sponsors and protection; at least in the beginning. But he didn't. Instead, he went off by himself. And then, when he finally finds an ally, it's the girl from Eleven." Raising his arms in the air, he asked, "Who takes that chance? She was one of the weakest tributes in the arena."

 

Katniss opened her mouth to speak but, before she could protest, Gale cut her off, "Yes, I know she wasn´t completely defenseless. She was resourceful, and she treated his wounds, but he didn't have to stay with her the way he did. I know you saw it as a normal thing, but it wasn't, not in an arena." Lowering his voice even further, he confided, "I'm telling you, Catnip, I wasn't the only one who was shocked. And that salute... That sign of respect is what makes people believe he might be the person we've been waiting for."

 

Katniss swallowed thickly as she tried to process everything she'd just heard. She didn't really know why, but Gale's words terrified her.

 

Sensing how overwhelmed she was, Gale placed a hand on her shoulder. Gently, he squeezed. When she looked up at him, he whispered, "I know this is a lot to take in. So, I'll simply tell you this, Peeta Mellark showed the world that people in the outlying districts might be poor, but we're also resourceful, smart, strong and loyal. He showed them that we stick by our allies, no matter what. Do you understand how powerful that message is?"

 

A flurry of ideas tumbled inside Katniss's head as she tried to follow Gale's words. She remembered every moment of Peeta's Game, and she had seen everything Gale had just described, but she hadn't seen any hidden motives behind Peeta's actions.

 

In her mind, Peeta had done for Rue the same thing he'd done for her all those years before, he had treated her with kindness and respect. To her, his attitude didn't speak of rebellion. All she'd seen was a decent man doing what was necessary to survive.

 

 _And that's exactly why people are talking about him_ , Katniss realized. Her heart began pounding in her ribcage. She pressed her open palm over her chest to try to keep it from jumping out of her chest. _Because he's decent. Because he does what no one else does, he uses his strength to help others, not to benefit himself_.

 

In the cold, dark night, Gale's words finally sunk in. As the true meaning behind his explanation shone through she gaped at him, unable to hide her surprise. _He doesn't hate Peeta, he's inspired by him_.

 

Overcome with emotion, Katniss blurted out, "He fed me once."

 

Gale's eyes snapped open. "What?"

 

Swallowing thickly, Katniss repeated, "He fed me once."

 

Maybe it was because she'd already found a way to make things right with Peeta, or because she had recently confided in Prim, but the words poured from her lips with surprising ease.

 

In just a few minutes she'd told him all about the sadness, the despair, the clarity with which she'd known she was doomed.

 

Gale listened intently as Katniss recalled the entire incident; from Peeta's mother lashing out at her to the burnt loaves which followed, and the gratitude she felt towards the baker's son.

 

Her eyes filled with tears when she confessed the shame she'd felt for never thanking him for his kind gesture, and the guilt she'd carried knowing the price Peeta had paid for those charred loaves of bread.

 

When she was done, Gale cleared his throat. "I know I already apologized, Catnip, but I am sorry about the things I said; about you and… about him."

 

Katniss nodded.

 

A peaceful feeling of contentment settled over her, she hadn't realized how much keeping her secret had weighed on her shoulders.

 

Looking back at her friend, she noticed a goofy grin painted on his face. "What?" she asked.

 

Looking positively giddy, Gale answered, "Well, judging from the story you just told me, Peeta Mellark's been defying authority all his life." Raising a hand in front of him to stop her protests, he added, "I know. Risking a beating to feed a hungry girl is not the same as standing up to President Snow. And don't worry, I won't be sharing your story with anyone, I promise. But his actions that day and inside the arena tell me that's he's not one to stand around and do nothing when others are in trouble."

 

Gale’s gray eyes twinkled under the moonlight as he added, "If we find the right way to approach him, he might be our man."


	12. The Village

Pale sunbeams streamed through the frayed curtains in Katniss's room. Like delicate tendrils, they touched the floating specks of dust which danced in the morning stillness making them shine.

 

Exhausted after a restless night, Katniss turned to her side. Her bed creaked under her weight, echoing her tired grumble.

 

Her arms and legs felt heavy after spending all night in bed, but her limber mind was fully awake. Like a broken record, she kept hearing Gale's words banging against her skull. _He might be our man. He might be our man. He might..._

 

Katniss let out a tired sigh. She knew Gale wasn't the only person who wanted to change the way things were. For years she had suspected there were others like him in District 12 and beyond. Living conditions in the poorer districts were so dire than anything else was unthinkable. But, no matter what he said, she couldn't believe the disgruntled miners of Twelve and the oppressed laborers of Panem were expecting Peeta to free them.

 

She could see how Peeta's actions in the arena might have given them hope of a unified Panem --a country where all the districts worked in harmony without the Capitol's oppressive interference. But she was fairly certain that Peeta had only acted out of a need to survive, not a desire to free anyone from their chains.

 

The truth was that she just couldn't fathom the notion of Peeta doing any of it on purpose because, at the end of the day, he was nothing more than a merchant's son from District 12. What did he know about life out of his own district? How could he speak for the overburdened masses of Panem when he hadn't experienced the misery and hopelessness which permeated a coal miner's life?

 

Peeta was kind and decent, but he'd never had to worry about his father coming back home at the end of the day. He didn't know what it was like to live with the dismal prospect of spending a lifetime trapped inside a mine shaft hanging over his head. _He probably doesn't even know what a hollow day is_ , she thought.

 

The sound of soft footfalls on the kitchen's tiled floor snapped her out of her thoughts.

 

"Happy new year," she grumbled to herself as she sat up pushing her covers away.

 

* * *

 

Prim brought the steaming mug of mint tea up to her lips and blew on it. "Got any plans for today?" she asked.

 

Katniss stared at her own mug and shrugged. The first day of the year was one of the few public holidays they had. The school, the mines, and all the shops in town were closed for the day. Even the vendors from the Hob took the day off to be with their loved ones.

 

She had tried going out to the woods with Gale once. But it was the dead of winter, and they hadn't caught much. By the time they'd made it back into the district, tired and chilled to the bone, they hadn't found anyone who was willing to trade.

 

In the end, they had decided it wasn't worth the trouble and had just stayed at home with their families after that.

 

Feeling restless after a sleepless night, Katniss wasn't looking forward to being trapped in her house all day. "I think I'll go to Victors' Village," she answered, coming up with a plan on the spot.

 

Prim straightened in her seat. "Got anything to trade?"

 

Katniss shook her head. "I want to show Peeta the plant book."

 

Prim's blue eyes twinkled in excitement. "Can I come?"

 

Every single muscle in Katniss's body stiffened. She could hear the anxious patter of her heart ringing in her ears. "He might not even be there," she blurted, "he doesn't know I'm coming."

 

Apparently unaware of her sister's discomfort, Prim took a cautious sip of her tea. "Well, if he's not there we'll just come back. It'll be a nice walk."

 

Katniss pursed her lips. She couldn't explain this sudden need to keep her visits to Victors' Village to herself or this possessiveness she felt over Peeta. It was almost like she didn't want to share him with the world.

 

Taking a sip of her tea, Katniss told herself that she wasn't being rational. Prim's curiosity was perfectly natural. Especially since she knew about the greenhouse and about Peeta's…

 

Katniss's mouth went dry. She glanced over her shoulder, anxiously searching for her mother.

 

The sound of the floorboards creaking under Mrs. Everdeen's rocking chair told her she was in the next room; probably too busy mending socks to pay any attention to her daughters' conversation.

 

Leaning over the table towards her sister, Katniss warned, "You can come with me, but only if you promise you won't say anything about the bread."

 

Prim's face turned serious. "I thought you said you had already settled it with him?"

 

"I did," Katniss whispered. "I just don't want to make him uncomfortable. Alright?"

 

Prim considered her sister's words for a moment and then nodded. "Ok, I won't say anything. I promise."

 

* * *

 

Katniss and Prim walked in comfortable silence. Bundled in their warmest coats, they crisscrossed the streets of the Seam until they reached the unpaved road which led to the Victors' Village and the forest beyond.

 

They kept going. Accompanied by the soft crunch of freshly fallen snow under their feet as they traveled down the lonely road which led up to Peeta's house.

 

"Wow!" Prim exclaimed as soon as they reached the impressive wrought iron gates which separated the Village from the rest of the district. "It's kind of scary, isn't it? With all these empty houses?"

 

Katniss nodded. Compared to the Seam, with its constant hustle and bustle, the opulent hamlet felt like a ghost town.

 

With a practiced flick of her wrist, Katniss opened the massive gate and motioned for her sister to go through. "Watch your step," she instructed pointing at the icy road ahead.

 

Hand in hand, the sisters reached Peeta's house.

 

"It's beautiful!" Prim exclaimed. Her blue eyes, bright under the winter sun, were wide as saucers as she took in the victor's house. Unlike the others, this one seemed cozy and inviting with an enormous festive wreath hanging on the front door, and a few poinsettias placed along the veranda.

 

Pointing to the warm light spilling from the windows, Prim said, "Looks like he's home."

 

"Let's go around to the back," Katniss instructed.

 

"The back?"

 

"Yeah. Peeta spends most of his time in the backyard or in his study. He asked me to knock on the kitchen door when I come by. It's closer."

 

Following her sister, Prim asked, "Have you seen his paintings? They did a whole show on them on Capitol radio. They say they're amazing."

 

Katniss shook her head. "I've never been in his study." They had almost reached the back door when Katniss stopped short. Turning to look at Prim, she said, "Remember, Little Duck, don't mention the bread, OK?"

 

Wounded by her sister's apparent lack of trust, Prim narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, I know, Katniss. I haven't forgotten."

 

Relieved, Katniss nodded. "Good." She was about to start walking again when a new idea popped into her head. "And maybe don't mention any of those Capitol radio shows either," she added.

 

"Fine," Prim huffed. "Maybe I'll just go in and stand there like a mute."

 

Katniss chuckled. Prim was almost 13, she was still sweet and good-natured, but it was becoming increasingly harder to tell her what to do without getting some kind of retort.

 

"There are plenty of things you can talk about, Prim," she soothed, "no need to turn into a mute."

 

The girls reached the back door.

 

Katniss pulled off one of her mittens. She was about to rap her knuckles against the windowpane when a haunting melody floated through the open window and kissed her ears.

 

Katniss froze. She recognized the tune --it was one of the songs her father sung when they went to the woods. "Hear that?" she asked her sister.

 

Prim nodded.

 

Katniss opened her mouth to tell Prim about their dad and the song when a new thought flashed through her mind. _This can't be coming from the radio_.

 

Noticing Katniss's frozen stance, Prim asked, "Something wrong?"

 

"I think he's not alone," Katniss whispered.

 

Standing on the tips of her toes, Prim tried to sneak a peek through the small window on the top of the door. "Maybe we could--,"

 

The music stopped.

 

Stealthily, Prim moved away from the door.

 

For a few seconds, the world was quiet. Katniss bit her lip as she anxiously considered what to do.

 

She was about to grab her sister, turn around, and forget about the whole nonsensical adventure when the sound of resounding footsteps approaching the kitchen shattered the silence.

 

Peeta's cheerful voice soon followed. "That was great, Madge! You've really improved!"

 

Katniss sighed, her warm breath turned into a white puffy cloud as it mixed with the chilly air. "It's just Madge!" she told Prim. Without even thinking, she raped her usual tune on the windowsill.

 

"Katniss?" Peeta called from inside the house.

 

Peering through the side window, where she knew he would see her, Katniss waved.

 

The door swung open. "Hi!" Peeta greeted. He was wearing dark corduroy trousers and the maroon sweater Katniss liked so much. His blond hair had been carefully styled, but not in the exaggerated way the Capitol favored.

 

"What a nice surprise!" he said. "I wasn't expecting you today."

 

"Well, I had the day off, and I thought…" Katniss shrugged, suddenly aware of the fact that she was basically barging into Peeta's house.  Fighting the blush she felt creeping up her cheeks, she said, "But maybe we should go. You've got company, and I don't--,"

 

"Stop!" Peeta interrupted, waving away her offer and smiling like he was overjoyed by the sudden intrusion. "It's only Madge. Our families don't do anything special today, and she dropped in for a visit. We'll be happy to have you." Tilting his head towards Prim, he added, "Besides, you're not alone. How could I possibly turn your sister away?"

 

Katniss's face lit up at his words.

 

Stepping back, Peeta motioned for them to come in.

 

Following Peeta's invitation, Katniss began to move, but Prim stood still, rooted to her spot and blocking her path.

 

Disconcerted, Katniss turned to look at her sister, her bright blue eyes were practically popping out of her face, and her cheeks had turned crimson.

 

"Come on, Little Duck," Katniss urged.

 

Like a robot that's processing information, Prim jerkily bobbed her head. The soft pressure of Katniss's gentle hand on her back finally got her moving.

 

"Hello, Miss Everdeen, welcome to my home," Peeta said warmly as the young girl walked past.

 

"Hi," Prim croaked, smiling politely --if somewhat stiffly-- at him.

 

Peeta smiled back, completely unruffled by Prim's strange demeanor.

 

Katniss rolled her eyes, absently wondering what those Capitol broadcasts had been saying about Peeta to have her sister so flustered.

 

Madge walked into the kitchen. "Happy new year!" she exclaimed.

 

"Happy new year, Madge," the Everdeen sisters answered in unison.

 

"Why don't you sit down," Peeta suggested pointing to the kitchen table. "Madge and I were about to have some tea. Would you like some?"

 

Prim nodded, and Katniss answered for both of them, "Yes, thank you."

 

Peeta got to work, quickly filling the kettle and placing teacups and saucers on a tray. Meanwhile, his guests pulled out their chairs and sat down.

 

A companionable silence settled in the room as Peeta measured tea leaves and waited for the water to boil.

 

"Was that you playing just now?" Prim asked the mayor's daughter. To Katniss's relief, she already sounded more like her usual self and less like a croaky toad.

 

Madge nodded. "I was trying out Peeta's piano."

 

"You have a piano?" Katniss blurted out. She didn't remember seeing it on her first visit to the house, but then again, she hadn't really gone into any of the rooms.

 

From his place by the stove, Peeta shrugged. His cheeks were tinted a pretty pink as he sheepishly explained, "It came with the house."

 

There was a short beep.

 

Forgetting about the tea for a moment, Peeta walked to the oven and opened the door. The mouthwatering smell of freshly baked bread and melted cheese filled the air.

 

"Are those cheese buns?" Prim asked craning her head towards the smell.

 

"They are," Peeta said, turning to show her a baking tray full of golden bread rolls. "Do you like them?"

 

Prim nodded. Her eyes twinkled happily as she added, "I do! But I practically had to gobble mine up the other day, Katniss almost snatched it right out of my hand!"

 

"Prim!" Katniss hissed.

 

"Well, it's true," Prim answered, all shyness forgotten, "I saw the way you kept looking at it."

 

Madge's amused chuckle broke the sisters' argument. Looking at Peeta, she asked, "They're your grandmother's recipe. Right, Peeta?"

 

At the sound of his name, Peeta blinked a couple of times. His mind raced frantically as he tried to recall his cousin's words. A heartbeat later, he answered, "Uh, yeah. She always made these for Bran's birthday."

 

Later, as they all sat around the table enjoying their tea and pastries, Madge shyly asked, "I've always wondered. What's it like out there?"

 

"Beyond the fence?" Prim asked.

 

Lifting her teacup to her lips, Madge confirmed, "Mm-hmm."

 

Katniss tipped her head and studied her friend for a moment. Not for the first time, she thought that, for two people who spent so much time together, she and Madge knew very little about each other.

 

"It's beautiful," Prim answered, breaking into her sister's thoughts. "But it's kind of scary too."

 

Peeta's surprised eyes landed on Prim. "You go out there?"

 

Prim shook her head. "Not regularly, but I've been there sometimes. Mostly I just stick to the edge of the woods and gather stuff. I don't go all the way in like Katniss does."

 

Taking a bite out of her cheese bun, Madge said, "So, I guess I'm the only one who's never been there, then."

 

"I've never been there either," Peeta corrected her.

 

"Well, no," Madge conceded. In her silence, Katniss sensed her unspoken words. _Peeta's arena wasn't that different from the woods surrounding District 12_.

 

Peeta's eyes clouded over, and he looked away. Katniss could almost see the heavy veil of sadness which fell over his shoulders.

 

Suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to reach out and comfort him, Katniss asked, "How did you know what to eat and what to leave?" It probably wasn't the right question --or the right time to ask it-- but it was something she'd always wondered about, and she was desperate to pull him out of his thoughts.

 

Peeta looked up at her, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

 

"In the arena," Katniss clarified. "You examined everything carefully. You never ate anything you didn't recognize. How did you know what was safe and what wasn't? Most people in District 12 wouldn't have known the difference."

 

Peeta leaned back in his chair. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, "It was the training center. They don't actually tell you where you're going to or what kind of arena is waiting for you, but the learning stations change each year and they teach you tons of useful things. Most people focus on the athletic stations, but the survival sessions are just as important."

 

"So, someone at the training center taught you how to recognize edible plants from poisonous ones?" Prim asked.

 

"Yeah, pretty much. The trainers gave me a list of things to avoid and a couple of rules to follow with plants I didn't recognize," he explained.

 

Peeta's eyes found his cousin's. Madge had stopped eating as she attentively followed the conversation.

 

A small smile curved Peeta's lips. "The one thing I enjoyed was the quiet. It's not like when you're in town where there's always some background noise. A dog barking, a mother yelling, children laughing. But it's not completely silent either; there's the rustling of leaves in the wind, the trickle of water in the stream, the flap of bird's wings. It's alive, always changing. It surrounds you. And the air is fresher, cleaner, sweeter."

 

Enraptured, Katniss listened to Peeta's words. Somewhere, deep inside her chest, a new dream blossomed, and she saw herself sitting by her father's lake with Peeta by her side, their hands intertwined, and their shoulders pressed together as they watched the sun setting in the sky.

 

Madge's question brought her back to reality. "Who taught you, Katniss? How do you know what's edible and what isn't?"

 

Shaking her head to gather her bearings, Katniss answered, "My father." Clearing her throat, she added, "He taught me most things. I think he learned them from his dad."

 

"And there's also our book," Prim proudly piped in.

 

"The one from the apothecary?" Peeta asked.

 

"Yeah. Would you like to see it, Madge?" Prim offered.

 

Madge's eyes lit up. "I'd love to!"

 

At her sister's nod, Prim stood up from her seat and reached for the tote bag hanging from Katniss's chair. Carefully, she pulled out the worn book and went to stand between Madge and Peeta. Placing it on the table in front of them, she explained, "This book has been in our family for generations. Many of the secrets of the apothecary are here." Her fingers traced loving circles over the faded cover. "Mom and dad met because of this book. Right, Katniss?"

 

Katniss nodded. "She used the book to show him which plants to gather."

 

"Your father traded at the apothecary?" Madge asked.

 

"Mm-hmm. He traded with lots of merchants, some of them are still my customers." Katniss looked at Peeta; he was leaning forward, his elbows rested on the tabletop as he hung to her every word. "Like your Dad."

 

Peeta smiled. He looked like he was about to say something when Madge spoke again. "I've always wondered about that," she said.

 

"About what?" Prim asked.

 

"Well…" Madge took a sip of her tea. "I remember my mother telling me a story once. I think Lilian was supposed to marry my uncle, Terry."

 

Prim's eyes narrowed. "Lilian? You mean my mom?" Madge nodded. "What do you mean she was supposed to marry your uncle?"

 

"That's what my mom said," Madge recalled. "I think it was one of those typical merchant arrangements. They were practically the same age, and they got along well. But then your dad came along, and Lilian left everything to go to the Seam."

 

Prim's eyes turned pensive. Lilian never said much about her life in town, and the girls never asked. Somehow, it seemed pointless and cruel, but that didn't mean they didn't wonder about it sometimes. "What happened to your uncle?"

 

Peeta's soft whisper fell like a bucket of ice-cold water over the Everdeen girls. "He married my mom."

 

"What?" the sisters exclaimed in unison.

 

Peeta chuckled at their reaction. For the most part, Katniss and her sister looked nothing alike but watching their expressions and their manners no one could deny their bond.

 

"Yeah, he told me the story once when I was little. He said he wanted to marry your mom but that she'd chosen a miner instead." Looking straight at Katniss, he added, "He also said that your dad had such a beautiful voice that, when he sang, even the birds stopped to listen."

 

Tears polled in Katniss's eyes at the mention of her father's voice. Years after his death it was still one of the things she remembered the most about him. Breaking eye-contact with Peeta, she blinked her tears away.

 

"Oh!" Prim exclaimed bringing her hand to her forehead. "Remember what Mom said, Katniss?"

 

Katniss shook her head.

 

 "Yeah," Prim insisted. "She said that she used to bake cookies with Peeta's dad and his sister. Remember?"

 

Katniss's mind raced back to the previous summer and the moments they'd shared huddled in front of the television. She could still see the image of Peeta lighting a fire in the arena and hear her mother's voice as she explained what she knew about the bakery and its ovens.

 

Before Katniss could say anything, Prim went on, "She also mentioned other people. Jared and… Mary... Melly... I'm sure the other name started with an M."

 

Madge chuckled. "Meg," she said. "Those are my mom and her brother. I think they were all pretty close back in the day."

 

"Yeah, that's what she said," Prim confirmed smiling brightly. "I didn't realize she was talking about your family at the time." Looking towards Peeta, she sobered up. "I was a bit distracted, I guess."

 

Prim's comment brought one more memory back. Reaching out to touch Madge's arm, Katniss said, "I think she also mentioned Mayselee."

 

Madge turned to Peeta whose eyes had turned dark and glassy. A soft silence settled over the group as the three older teens took a second to think about the tribute who had left the district to never come back.

 

Sensing the shift in mood, Prim opened the plant book. With loving reverence, she began turning the yellowing pages of the leather-bound volume.

 

Madge and Peeta followed the presentation in respectful silence, watching with rapt attention as the delicate renditions of plants and herbs slowly came into view.

 

Peeta's surprised gasp broke the silence. "Nightlock berries," he whispered pointing at the picture of a black round fruit.

 

"Nightlock?" Madge repeated. "Sounds dangerous."

 

"It is," Katniss confirmed, "The Capitol uses them as decoys sometimes. Peacekeeper patrols mix them with the regular berries. They're incredibly deadly, so you need to be careful when you handle them."

 

Locking her bright blue eyes with Prim's, Madge asked, "What's on the next page?"

 

* * *

 

Peeta leaned against the door frame and watched as Madge, Katniss, and Prim walked away. From where he stood, the three silhouettes looked like winter fairies sliding on the snow.

 

The thought brought a smile to his lips. He never would have guessed he'd be starting the new year in such sweet company.

 

After six months of living in Victors' Village, Peeta had almost given up on having visitors.

 

His friends from school never came by. He hardly ever saw them, and they always had some excuse when he did, wrestling practice, inventory week, history test.

 

Even Delly --his childhood friend who used to tell people they were siblings when they were little-- had found a way to avoid coming to his home. He didn't blame her, though. He didn't blame any of them. 

 

How could he? In their eyes, he was a cautionary tale. The merchant boy who had been reaped. A living reminder that every paper in Effie Trinket's glass ball counted.

 

 _Perhaps it's better that they stay away_ , he thought sometimes, when one of his darker moods struck. _Who knows? I might even end up mentoring one of them next year._

 

Not unlike his friends, his family had only been to his house once, and that was mostly because they hadn't been able to decline his constant invitations.

 

His mother had barely spoken while she was there, but his dad had made up for her silence. The old baker had spent the entire visit complimenting Peeta's kitchen and making everyone ill at ease with his constant rambling.

 

His brothers had been overwhelmed by the size of the house and its luxurious furnishings, but they had recovered quickly. They hadn't gone back yet, but Peeta knew they would eventually; just probably not unannounced.

 

Madge Undersee was a different story, though.

 

As the major's daughter, Madge wasn't overwhelmed by his riches, and she didn't have to worry about learning a trade, which meant she had a lot of free time on her hands. Just like him.

 

She didn't know what it was like to be a tribute but, unlike the others, she wasn't afraid to look him in the eye. She was the only person who treated him like the same old Peeta.

 

Even Bran and Rye sometimes forgot that he was the same boy who could end up covered in flour after an afternoon shift and who knew how to charm his way out of any problem.

 

It was odd, he had never thought of Madge as anything more than a distant relative, but ever since she'd given him the bird-shaped pin, he had begun to see her as a real cousin. Even as a friend. So, he hadn't been surprised when she'd called that morning to ask him what he was up to and if he wanted some company.

 

Katniss's visit, on the other hand, had completely thrown him off balance.

 

He'd been delighted to find her on his doorstep on the first day of the year; and the fact that she'd felt comfortable enough to bring her sister along filled him with joy.

 

He didn't want to get ahead of himself, his relationship with Katniss was still new, but he enjoyed every second he spent with her, and he was starting to get the distinct impression that they were becoming friends.

 

And now that he knew Gale Hawthorne was not really in the picture, he couldn't stop his heart from hoping that she might even agree to be something more one day.

 

Madge and the Everdeen sisters opened the gate to the village and turned on the unpaved road which would take them back to their respective homes. Peeta kept his eyes on them until they disappeared from view.

 

Closing the door behind him, Peeta walked down the corridor and into his study.

 

A couple of open crates stared back at him. Their empty bellies waiting to be filled.

 

With a heavy sigh, Peeta reached for one of his biggest paintings, --a massive watercolor of Rue sitting on a tree branch-- and took it down from its place on the wall. Carefully, he placed it in one of the crates.

 

He repeated the process, removing pictures and storing them; moving mechanically as he replayed the events of the morning in his mind and doggedly tried to forget that his Victory Tour was just a few days away.

 

* * *

 

Peeta opened his front door a couple of days later to find a peacekeeper standing on his doorstep.

 

The peacekeeper wasn't from District 12. His uniform was too bright; his helmet had been polished recently. The badge over his heart said he belonged to the presidential guard.

 

"Victor Mellark," the peacekeeper said in a clipped, mechanical voice. "Move aside for President Snow."

 

A bone-chilling shiver ran up Peeta's spine at the mention of the president's name. His hand tightened on the doorknob to the point of pain, but his face gave nothing away.

 

Determined to keep his discomfort hidden from his visitors, Peeta pulled his shoulders back and straightened his stance. "Please, come in," he greeted stepping away from the door.

 

Without even glancing in his direction, the peacekeeper marched in. "Is this a sitting room?" he asked pointing at one of the first doors along the corridor.

 

Peeta nodded.

 

The peacekeeper opened the door to the room and slipped inside. He re-emerged after a few seconds looking almost bored. Using the radio device attached to his belt, he barked, "All clear!"

 

There was some shuffling of boots on the snow followed by the soft click of a car door being closed.

 

A moment later, the slight figure of President Snow crossed the threshold. His small, beady eyes, found Peeta's, "Good morning, my boy."

 

The cloying perfume of decaying rose petals tickled Peeta's nose. "Good morning, Sir. Welcome to District 12."

 

The president smiled. The expression made Peeta's blood curdle. "Shall we?" he asked indicating the door where his peacekeeper stood.

 

"Of course," Peeta said. "After you, Mr. President."

 

From his spot by the door, Peeta watched as the most powerful man in Panem went into his sitting room.

 

 _It's incredible_ , Peeta thought, _how much smaller he looks when he's not surrounded by all the trappings of power_.

 

With a shake of his head, Peeta tried to clear his thoughts. A million questions swirled in his mind, but he pushed them away. Whatever this was, it was important. He needed to be completely focused.

 

"Sit down." The president patted the spot next to him on the couch.

 

Peeta did as he was told. Remembering his manners, he asked, "Would you like something to drink? Some tea, perhaps," he offered.

 

"No. But thank you, most people don't remember that presidents also need to eat."

 

Peeta smiled.

 

The president's eyes wandered around the room. Unsure of what to do, Peeta dropped his hands on his lap and waited while the silence between them stretched.

 

"I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here," the president finally said.

 

"I didn't know you came out to the districts," Peeta admitted.

 

"Oh, I don't." President Snow turned his full attention to Peeta. "Not unless I think the situation merits it."

 

Peeta swallowed thickly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped the president wouldn't hear the sound of his heart pounding against his chest.

 

"Listen, Peeta, I think we'll make this whole situation a lot simpler if we agree to be honest with each other. What do you say?"

 

Peeta nodded. "Yes. I agree, Sir."

 

A small satisfied smile curved the president's lips. "I'm here because I have a problem."

 

Peeta's eyes narrowed. "A problem, Sir?"

 

"Yes. For years, this country has run like a well-oiled machine. The districts provide goods, and the Capitol makes sure they're distributed. But there's a group of people who isn't satisfied with the way things are done. They think they can do a better job."

 

President Snow leaned back against the couch assuming a more relaxed position. "These people believe that, if the districts band together and change the way things are run, they might be able to get more. More food, more electricity, more fuel, more power. But what they don't know is that there isn't more."

 

"There isn't?" Peeta asked.

 

"No. Our situation is truly precarious. I can assure you that, if the Capitol were to release its grip on the districts for even a short time, the entire system would collapse."

 

Peeta's eyes widened. "You mean there might be--," The words died on his tongue, the thought too terrifying to be spoken out loud.

 

"A revolution." The president supplied.

 

Too overwhelmed to speak, Peeta bit the inside of his cheek.

 

Across from him, the president sighed.

 

The faint smell of rusty iron filled the room. The foul odor mixed with the lingering scent of roses and stuck to Peeta's throat, almost choking him.

 

Seemingly unaware of his host's predicament, the president went on, "Can you imagine what that would mean for our country, Peeta? How many people would die? What conditions those left would have to face? I know some people are dissatisfied, but things could get a lot worse." His unsettling words of death and destruction hung in the air between them.

 

With a light tap on Peeta's knee, President Snow added, "Of course, you're probably wondering what any of this has to do with you."

 

"I am," Peeta admitted.

 

"It's very simple. In the following weeks, all of Panem will be watching you. All you need to do is make sure that our message of prosperity and peace is delivered."

 

Peeta blinked a few times as his mind tried to catch up with the president's request. "How will I do that?"

 

The president's next words made Peeta shiver. "Just stick to the script. Miss Trinket will provide you with different speeches throughout your tour. Make sure you read them and read them well. We don't want anyone thinking you're a trained parrot," he finished with a smirk.

 

Peeta looked down at his lap. Slowly, he clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking. "And, if I fail?"

 

"You won't." The vote of confidence felt like a cold blade cutting through his soul. "I've seen you in action, Peeta. I know you can do this because you care. You respect the fallen. You protect the weak. And what's weaker than District 12? If the Capitol loses control over the country, I can't guarantee these new people will be able, or willing, to provide for the district's needs. Let's face it, these individuals are greedy, and what can the poorest district in the country offer in exchange for their help?" Raising his brows, he added, "Coal is no longer the commodity it once was.  So, let's just say things will get a lot more difficult if this doesn't go our way."

 

Standing up, the president turned to look out the window. "It's a pity, isn't it? This was one of the prettiest Villages once, but it's been slowly dying of loneliness and neglect." Turning to face Peeta, he asked, "So, what do you say? Will you help me? Will you stop these fanatics from destroying what little we have left?"

 

The words felt like ash in Peeta's mouth. Too scared to do anything else, he spat them out. "Yes, I will."

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.
> 
> I love kudos and comments as much as Effie loves good manners. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!
> 
> The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


End file.
